


One Last Dance

by Tyta



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anachronistic, F/M, Gentle Emet, Mostly Fluff, Smut, cw: biting, cw: light bondage, minimal angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyta/pseuds/Tyta
Summary: Emet x f!WoLRating update! Now contains 100% more smutEmet could have held Azem back, he supposed. He could have melted away and left her clutching nothing, leaving her wanting the way she had to him, so long ago. All if it weren't for that small spark of him that he had buried so deeply, cruelly resurfacing in the face of a woman who hadn’t changed much at all, despite the eons of time that had gone by, in all ways but one. She was now fighting against him. But maybe, just maybe, if he played along, if he danced with her one more time, she would remember.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a slut for dancing. 
> 
> soft, sad, only a lil fucked up emet baby

Lurking, as he did, in the shadows, Emet-Selch watched with disinterest as the people of the Crystarium bustled about, setting up bouquets of flowers, banners, and decorating the tables of the Wandering Stairs with baubles more garish than usual. People were directed and herded about by a tall, white-haired Viera, Gods be damned if Emet could remember her name, and the Exarch. 

They were setting up a party. It was to celebrate the return of the night sky to Lakeland, but more specifically, to celebrate the  _ Warrior of Darkness _ and all her altruistic efforts on their behalf. The Exarch and the Viera had both been irritatingly pleased with themselves for having the thought, and the Warrior--Azem’s--departure for the Raktika Greatwood some turns ago had left them the perfect opportunity to surprise her upon her return. And return she would, in just a few bells. Emet had left her there some time ago, with new knowledge on the Sundering of the world and the origins of Zodiark and Hydaelyn. 

Azem, though apparently she was calling herself Penelope these days, had watched with quiet, contemplative interest, a detail that gave him some, however slight, measure of hope that she would see reason. 

That she would come back to him. 

He forced that thought from his mind, instead choosing to focus on how tasteless the arrangements of the bouquet were. Carnations  _ and  _ lilies, really? She preferred roses. 

Irritated with himself and others for a plethora of reasons, he retreated to the shadows to wait, away from the bustle of the Crystarium where he could quietly smother his thoughts in peace. 

Emet overslept. When he deigned to make his appearance at the party with the specific intent of ruining the Warrior/Azem/Penelope’s good time, he found he’d overshot his best chance, and the party was already in full swing. It seemed the entire Crystarium had turned up to drink and sing and be merry in the Wandering Stairs. He’d simply have to settle for ruining the back half of her night. Finding her was easy enough, at least. All he had to do was focus, and he could find the brilliant hue of her soul--red and orange, like fire. Passion, love, life, everything worth living for, warm and delightful and all-consuming--and there she was. A crowd had gathered in the Exedra. A quartet of bards played and sang on the steps as people stood, clapping, laughing, singing along, on the edge of one of the stonework circles, watching whoever stepped inside to dance. People stepped into the open area and disappeared back into the crowd endlessly, creating an infinite kaleidoscope of color and people. 

And her light was in the center of it all. Of course it was. When there was merriment to be made and dancing to be done, she was always at its forefront; exactly as it was then, so it was now. He easily made his way to the edge of the circle, slipping between people as they moved to give him a wide berth. And there he watched, content to be noticed at the most inconvenient and irritating time.

Presently, she danced among the crowd with one of the white-haired twins, the one who wore red. He couldn’t tell them apart, and didn’t care to know. The song was fast and upbeat, and Penny led the shorter elezen, who was clearly a novice to the dance floor, through the most basic steps of the Gridanian Swing. The elezen constantly glanced at her feet, recovered from missteps, and generally made a fool of herself, but she and Penny still smiled and laughed. The joy wasn’t in doing it well, it was purely from the act itself. 

And it was the red twin who noticed him first. Her smile immediately dropped to a sharp scowl, much to Emet’s delight, and she tapped the Warrior’s arm with her free hand and began to speak, halting the dance in the middle of the floor. Penelope cocked her head, listening, then turned back to look at him. She held his gaze for a long moment, her rakish grin never faltering, and  _ rolled her eyes.  _ She picked up the younger girl’s hand again, turning her back to the Ascian, intent on resuming the dance. To her credit, the elezen tried to pick up her previous enthusiasm, but clearly his presence had irked her enough that she never quite found her stride again. As the song ended, the pair seemed intent on melting back into the crowd on the opposite side of him, and that simply wouldn’t do. It was easy enough to move without being noticed, slipping through the shadows of people in the moonlight, appearing directly to the left of them as they hit the edge of the circle. 

“Well, that was certainly a  _ marvelous _ display of footwork!” His tone dripped with sarcasm, his smile wolfish and cruel towards the clearly fuming elezen twin.

“Shut up! What are you even doing here? Don’t you have-” She was cut off with a nudge from Penelope, who watched Emet with her head tipped, as if amused by his presence. Certainly not his intent, but at least  _ someone’s _ night was worse for him being there.

“Then you can do better, right?” She hooked an arm around the back of her twin’s neck, leaning on the silently fuming girl with casual ease.

“Oh, without a doubt! I have to spend my infinite years honing some sort of craft, do I not?” Emet had no intention whatsoever of  _ actually  _ dancing, that would be absurd, but he could be smug in the knowledge that he could do better. He’d been taught by the best, by someone with skill and passion, who went to every corner of the world to meet people and make new discoveries--and dances were always her favorite to bring home.

“Well, that’s perfect then! You can grace us with a demonstration.”

Emet laughed. “No.” 

“Well,” Penny let her arm fall from the Elezen, only to step forward and snatch the Ascian’s wrist in her hand. He could have easily moved out of the way, had he not been so distracted by a memory, and he could easily slip away now. “If I have to suffer through your presence, you have to suffer mine.” And with that, she was pulling him out of the crowd. Resigned to his fate, he shrugged off his heavy, stifling coat, tossing it at the elezen girl. She caught it out of sheer reactionary shock, but dropped it onto the ground in a heap as soon as she realized what she was holding.

Emet could have held Azem back, he supposed. He could have melted away and left her clutching nothing, leaving her wanting the way she had to him, so long ago. All if it weren't for that small spark of him that he had buried so deeply, cruelly resurfacing in the face of a woman who hadn’t changed much at all, despite the eons of time that had gone by, in all ways but one. She was now fighting against him. But maybe, just maybe, if he played along, if he danced with her one more time, she would remember. 

She tipped her head as she looked briefly into his eyes, her brilliant blue catching his molten gold. The teal dress she wore brought out the full brightness of her eyes, always so full of light and life. Despite the excess of slowing fabric near the arms and waist, it clung to her chest and waist so perfectly, enhancing the best of her svelte frame--Emet snapped himself out of his reverie.  _ Azem is different now, _ he reminded himself. Even if she was exactly as he remembered her. Wild and beautiful and free. 

“You look like you have something to say, Emet.” Humor danced behind her eyes, and the Ascian knew he’d been caught. 

“I don’t.” He shrugged, quickly reclaiming his mask of indifference. 

She hummed, her tone carrying something he would tentatively describe as disappointment. The bards picked up a new song, and she hardly had to hear a beat before she spoke. “Hm, 4/4 time. Could be a Limsan foxtrot, if you’re familiar?”    
  


“Please. I was there when people were first bumbling through the steps.” 

She clicked her tongue at him. “Yes, I get it, you’re old. Ah, is that why you slouch so much?” Not his intended takeaway, but Azem always would always rise to the occasion when it came to banter. She dragged him to the very center of the circle, her arms raised and hand positioned, waiting for him to take it. 

With a sigh, as if this were an insufferable chore, he straightened his shoulders and stepped closer, taking her hand in his own, placing his other on the small of her back, drawing her in closer. The dance began when he willed it to, taking small steps to each side, until without warning, he was lunging forward to move the progressive dance across the floor. Penny reacted perfectly, her feet gracefully moving back as her body arched into the dancing position, moving easily, as if she were being carried on a tide. Emet loped back and she followed, every step of hers chasing his. 

He released her hand and she arched it outward gracefully as he led into a series of slow spins. She followed him effortlessly as they weaved across the dance floor, choreographing moves with little communication. As if they’d done this a hundred times. 

Emet could almost close his eyes and be back in time. 

_ The radio played in the background, the music slow and deep, filling the room. It occasionally sputtered with static, but Azem didn’t seem to mind at all. Why she kept a half-broken thing around was beyond Emet’s ken, but she loved it despite its flaws. A quiddity of hers. “This is foolish.”  _

_ “No it isn’t! You just feel that way because you’re bad at it.” Azem laughed, her voice light and airy with delight as Emet pursed his lips in a small pout. “The joy isn’t in doing it well, it’s purely from the act itself, my dear. Just give it time, you’ll learn the steps. No need to get huffy because you aren’t perfect at it the first try.” _

_ He sighed, taking her hand and getting into position again, though she gently tapped his elbow, instructing him to raise his arm. “I can’t begin to fathom what you enjoy about doing this.”  _

_ She clicked her tongue at him. “It’s fun! Besides, every people has dances, so it’s an easy place to start learning. They’re such raw expressions of emotion and passion, embedded in history and culture! They’re meaningful, to the whole of a society and its individuals. No matter what the rules are, no dance will ever be the same, and yet they can convey a message so clearly.” She sighed dreamily, ever the romantic when it came to abstract ideas. She grinned more playfully then, “And they’re quite intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”  _

_ Azem laughed delightedly as Emet hummed in agreement, pulling to draw her in even closer, running his hand smoothly from the top of her shoulders to the small of her back. “I would concede that, at least.”  _

_ They began to step around the flat again, simple, easy steps that she guided him through. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my travels, it’s that you can learn exactly who someone is by the way they dance.” _

_ Emet hummed again. He believed her, but he couldn’t fathom what she meant by it. But then, she always had a way of connecting with people that was far beyond him. He held her close, savoring the feel of her skin under his fingers and the closeness of her body to his. Her travels took her far and wide, away from her home, and him, for weeks, months sometimes. In the grand scheme of things, they were hardly blinks of an eye, but he missed her all the same, and when she returned he savored her as much as he could.  _

_ “You’re hopeless.” She sighed, but there was humor in it. Azem did love to tease him as payback for his overly pessimistic outlook on life at large.  _

_ “And yet, you love me.”  _

_ Azem halted her steps, finally conceding to lean into him fully. She raised her hands to trail her fingers along his jawline, her voice a pleased purr as she agreed, “That I do.” She stood on her toes as he bent at the waist, bringing their lips together for a passionate kiss. She broke away first, still holding his face in her hands ,as he pressed her forehead against his. “And I always will.”  _

The dance was over, the music halted, when Emet found himself back in reality. The Warrior was looking at, no, through, him. For a moment, Emet watched her, until she blinked, shaking her head slightly, as if to clear a fog from her mind, casting her eyes downward. She didn’t try to leave his hold on her. All the better, because he wasn’t ready to let go. 

Thoughts were racing behind her eyes, that much was clear, and Emet could only guess, and hope, at what they were. But she recovered quickly, and her previous fire returned as she looked up at him once more, a pout on her lips. “I dragged you out here hoping to embarrass you, but you’re actually decent.”

Emet shrugged casually, racing to repress the flood of memory and emotion that was quickly threatening to overwhelm him. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

Penelope rolled her eyes in response. “No, you aren’t.” 

“No,” he sighed, “I’m not.” Finally, he let her hand fall and released his grip on her waist. Quickly, perhaps too quickly, he stepped fully away, leaving her warmth, and missing it immediately. Would that he could hold her forever, and never let her stray so far from him ever again. “Enjoy your revel while it lasts, Warrior of Darkness.”  _ Tomorrow will always come too soon. _

And with that, he disappeared into the crowd, not bothering to stay and see her reaction to his abrupt departure, slipping into the shadows, where he could quietly smother his thoughts in peace once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something to say? say it to my face at [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub!](https://discord.gg/9ZFH2mcp5W)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zodiark and Hydaelyn are primal being borne from the will of the planet, and therefore above concepts such as gender. Don’t @ me.
> 
> I'm a font of originality.

Clicking her tongue, Penny watched the Ascian go. His departure was familiar, as he turned his back to her and waved that...whatever wave it was. And all the same, it filled her with a sense of familiar loss. 

She liked the man more than she was willing to admit, but not _that_ much. Why would she feel that way? It bothered her in a way she couldn’t place.

“Are you _mad?_ ” Alisaie pulled her thoughts away from contemplation. “Why would you ask him to dance with you? He’s an _Ascian_!”

She was joined all too quickly by her brother, who had, along with presumably _everyone_ else, clearly seen the display of the Warrior of Darkness quite literally hand-in-hand with their hated enemy. “You’re unarmed! He could have killed you by being that close!”

_Oh, now they manage to agree._ Penny sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “If he had tried to kill me on the dance floor, it would have been an absolute power move, and you know what? I probably would have respected him more for it.” 

“Penelope. Really.” Alisaie grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the dancers and the crowd. She let herself be pulled, figuring the scolding would end sooner if she didn’t resist. 

“What? My plan was to annoy him with a dance so he’d leave us be. And look, he’s gone. My plan worked.” She couldn’t argue with that, right? 

She could. “There are a hundred ways to do that, and you chose, quite possibly, the worst one. And he threw his _coat at me!_ ” Alisaie got none of the sympathy she might have been looking for as Penny laughed. 

“Wait, really?” Alphinaud put a hooked finger to his lips, eyes lit with amusement at his sister’s expense. “That’s hilarious.” 

“No it isn’t!” Her ire now solely focused on him, Penny silently thanked Alphinaud for the diversion as she slipped away from them both, finding that she could _really_ use some wine right about now. She’d need it, for all the lectures she was about to get from every Scion.

  
  
  
  
  


“You can learn exactly who someone is by dancing with them.” Penny argued, to no avail. 

“And pray tell, what did you learn about the Ascian?” Thancred had apparently perfected fatherly disappointment in his years of doting on not-Minfilia Minfilia. She had no response to that, not one he would accept. Penny had learned that Emet-Selch carried a profound sadness with him. That his posture and attitude were a cover for a feeling he wasn't willing to show. Emet was a man who carried a great weight--of what, she didn’t know, but it weighed on him all the same, and for how long? She doubted it was what the Scions wanted to hear, so she pursed her lips and kept silent, hoping they would chalk her outburst up to the fourth glass of wine she was holding. “That’s what I thought.” Thancred sighed, but Penny knew she was dismissed from the lecturing. Despite being free, she didn’t feel much like socializing anymore, and opted to get some rest instead.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_“You cannot be serious.” Azem paced around the room, ever restless, as Emet-Selch sat cooly on the couch, as unflappable and passive as ever. She was furious, though she didn’t quite know how to express her anger. It wasn’t an emotion she dealt with often, and it piled frustration on top of her disbelief._

_“I am, as we all are.” He was calm and collected. Or perhaps, he was resigned. Whatever he felt, it hardly mattered right now to Azem. “If we granted this world life, why isn’t it ours to take? We merely reap what we sow.”_

_“Once you give a gift, it’s no longer yours to take. They’re just as much a part of this star now as we are.” Despite her pleading, Emet-Selch shrugged. The lives, struggles, and cares of others had never meant much to him, as much as she might have liked it to. As much as she tried to change him. So, she tried a different tactic. “So we give this life to Zodiark. What do we do when They ask for more again, and there’s nothing left to give?”_

_Finally, Emet showed something approaching discomfort. But he had made up his mind that this was the only way, and so he was all but impossible to budge. But still, calmly, infuriatingly, he answered. “We offer ourselves once more.”_

_Azem was beyond anger. She was pleading now. Did he not see? How could he simply accept a truth like that? “So how long until that which we created to save us_ destroys _us? How much will we give, and give, and let Them take? We never halted our destruction, Emet. We only delayed it.”_

_Nothing. She knew this wasn’t going to work. Trying to appeal for the good of others had never been the way to change Emet-Selch’s mind. He was an inherently selfish thing. She sighed, stopping her pacing to take a seat next to Emet, leaning into his shoulder. Quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper, she asked, “And if Zodiark then asked for my life, would you give me up? Hades, would you let Them take me?”_

  
  
  
  


When Penelope woke up she felt like absolute garbage. Her head swam, her mouth was dry, and her body ached. Her only saving grace was the sun hadn’t risen yet, sparing her from a bombardment of light on her aching eyes. She’d gone a little too heavy on the wine last night, that was undeniable. But it was a party in her honor, what was she going to do? Not celebrate? And she didn’t remember _any_ of the lecturing the Scions had dished out at her for her little stunt with Emet, so that was a plus.

And yet, something itched at the back of her mind. She’d dreamt, of that she was certain, but the moment she’d woken any memory of it had vanished. And it felt important. 

But there was nothing to be done about it now. Penny knew herself well enough to know that trying to sleep again was useless. Once she was up, there was no going back. It was early morning, the sun barely making its appearance over the horizon, and Penny thought she might as well use it to her advantage. Inevitably, the Scions would come calling, planning their next move to destroy a Lightwarden, doubtless uncaring that she was painfully hungover. Her inn room was the first place they’d look. 

But she could bail before they came calling, and disappear for a day to recuperate. A cool walk would probably be the best thing she could do for herself anyway. So she downed a cup of water and stuffed a leftover sandwich into her pockets to eat later, and set about the Crystarium. Penny found if she went upwards through the Pendants, she could avoid the Innkeep and take the walkways to a quiet place she’d found not long after her first visit, when she had explored the city with gusto. She’d never seen the Crystarium so quiet before. So peaceful. Everyone was sleeping off the previous night’s excitement with the exception of a dedicated few, who were easy enough to avoid. 

Once past the Aetheryte, she could simply keep walking a few yalms, duck behind a building, hop a railing, and she’d be at her secret, quiet hideaway, where she could--her eyes narrowed. Slouching in _her_ spot, one she hadn’t told a _soul_ about, was undeniably Emet-Selch, looking oddly...tired. He was staring towards the Crystal Tower absently, his back against the brick wall of the building behind him as he sat on the balcony that overlooked the Exedra.

_Figures_. He probably spied on her all the time without her knowing, why wouldn’t he know where she crept off to for peace and quiet? And why would he, of all people, respect it? If he’d noticed her, and she was sure he had, he made no indication of it. She almost turned on her heel and left, but an itch stopped her. A prickle at the back of her mind that maybe there was...something he could do for her. She had no inkling of what it was, but the feeling was enough to carry her forward. It was not, however, enough to keep the mock irritation out of her voice. She did enjoy their catty banter. “You’re in my spot.” 

Not bothering to turn and look at her, instead focused intently on the tower, he chirped, “Oh? I don’t see your name on it.”

Penny scoffed, leaning on the iron railing to look in the same direction as he was, trying to figure exactly what he might be looking at. “How are you simultaneously the oldest and most juvenile person I know?”

“And how might you be the most entitled, yet most lacking of the right, person I know?”

She pouted in his direction, but she wasn’t bothered by the insult, or attempt at one. If he was going to be juvenile, so could she. She turned her pout to a flat stare. “You don’t know me.” 

For a moment, something flickered across his usually tightly controlled expression. It was too quick to place, but it felt something akin to...regret? No, she doubted Emet was someone with regrets. “Don’t I.” 

The look Penelope shot him demanded an explanation, but he gave none, and trying to pry one out of him seemed like a waste of time and effort. Thought he did seem oddly subdued today. But then again, so was she, though she doubted the root causes of their stupor were even remotely similar. “I never thanked you, by the way. For bringing back Shtola.” It was a thing worth thanking him for. The Mi'qote was important to her, and the entirety of the Scions. 

“Well, I suppose you’re welcome. Though you must know I didn’t do it out of the goodness of my heart.” 

“I would never dare to assume that about you.” She got an amused huff out of him at that. “But regardless of your intent, your actions are appreciated.”

He hummed at that, and Penny knew it was all she was going to get from him. For a long moment, there was silence. It was...oddly comfortable, considering who they both were. Finally, he broke the pause. “Have you thought any on what I told you? About Zodiark and Hydaelyn?” Finally, he pulled his gaze away from the horizon to meet hers. Gods, his eyes were so bright. An attractive, piercing color, fierce in their light and that seemed able to look into her soul, for better or worse. There was no denying that Emet-Selch was an attractive man. She could imagine what it would feel like to run a hand through his hair, or trace her fingers along his skin. Too well.

Meeting his eyes sparked something, a fleeting memory that she desperately tried to grab onto, but it escaped from her grasp before she could make anything of it. Being around Emet gave her the oddest sense of familiarity and deja vu. A feeling that he could help her. She couldn't figure how that might be, when she was all but certain he was actively working to undermine her in her effort to save the First. “I have.” 

He spread his hands apart, an expectant gesture. “And?” 

Penny shifted on her feet. “I’m willing to concede that Hydaelyn may very well be a Primal. But if They’ve tempered me to Their will, Hydaelyn’s had me think and do some very odd things.” _Like running my hands through your hair._ She hummed, letting her legs bend underneath her to slump to the floor, positioning herself not unlike Emet, though opposite of him. “But I’m not willing to agree that Zodiark is what you’re trying to make me think They are. A benevolent protector.”

Penny watched Emet’s face as he processed her answer. She wouldn’t say he seemed pleased with it, but he didn’t seem disappointed either. “When our world was on the brink of destruction, Zodiark was the one who saved us. _That_ is undeniable.” 

“But at what cost? The lives of _half_ of your people?”” 

He took longer to answer than she thought. She expected him to immediately have a rebuttal, how it was necessary, the only choice, something. But instead, he simply looked at her, head tipped, brows furrowed in confusion. Finally, he spoke. Curious. “Wherever did you get that impression?”

Taken aback, it was Penelope’s turn to take a moment of utter bemusement. “You said so, at the murals.” No, that wasn’t right. He had said no such thing, confirmed when he softly shook his head. “Then--When did I hear that?” She had no idea what had given her that impression. She sighed. “Alright, I misheard. Fine.”

“No,” Emet watched her like his hawk, his eyes boring into her as he replied. Deep unease settled over the Warrior of Darkness. “you’re right. That happened.” 

She tore her eyes away from his, shifting slightly. Where had she learned that? It couldn’t have been the Echo, she would have remembered those visions clearly. Did it have something to do with her dream? Had she ever had a vision in her sleep before? Her discomfort and unease must have been palpable, because Emet finally deigned to move, standing up briefly only to crouch in front of her. Penelope didn’t want to think he would care to be concerned for her well-being, but the look on his face...He was. He really was. 

Quietly, he asked. “Do you trust me?” 

Penny laughed. “No.” As Emet’s look of concern melted into one of annoyance in record time, and she realized this wasn’t the time for their usual banter. So she reiterated. “No. But I’m curious enough to hear you out.” 

“I don’t want you to hear me out. I want you to see something.” Emet-Selch offered her his hand, and her first instinct was to take it. She reached up, but quickly realized she had reason to hesitate. Trusting an _Ascian_ who was trying to take her to a secondary location? It was dubious at best. But Emet seemed so uncharacteristically...genuine. She had always been too trusting, and Gods, had she been burned before. It wasn’t like an Ascian with thousands of years of lying under his belt couldn’t fake being genuine for a minute. 

So for once in her life, she asked a follow-up question. “And what would that be?” 

“A piece of the world we lost.” 

His use of _we_ wasn’t lost on the Warrior. And it was the final push she needed. He _did_ know. So she looked into his eyes again, searching for any kind of malice or deceit, and finding none. She took his hand, and let him pull her through shadow and darkness into the unknown. 

  
  
  
  


When Penny regained her sense of self and direction, she was standing. A cursory glance around had her brow furrowed with confusion. It was cold and dark, the ground under her feet solid rock, But she had been in caves before, and this felt _entirely_ different. If she listened, was it water she heard? Penny grimaced. This had been a bad idea. She was getting murdered for sure. 

Emet stood next to her, watching, waiting. He was a patient man, when it suited him. He no longer held her hand, instead keeping both arms folded neatly behind his back.

She eyed him, until the silence grew oppressive, and she couldn’t handle the dread anymore. “Alright, what did you want me to see?” 

Wordlessly, he swept out an arm, gesturing towards whatever lay behind her. She turned, and her breath caught. 

A city. It rose from the seabed, every monolithic building reaching towards the sky, lit by windows arched with elegant metal inlays. Every rise seemed capped with shining opaline crystal, and the sight of it all lit by sunlight filtering through the waves was enough to awe her beyond words. “Where...is this?”

Emet walked forward to stand at her side as she looked over the glistening jewel of a city. “Amaurot.”

The name brought back a flood of emotion. Her head ached with the pulse of the Echo, but it was the most absolute, profound sense of _loss_ she’d ever felt that brought her to her knees. She lived the monochrome memory of the Echo as everything she knew simultaneously came racing back to her and tumbling down, as she pieced together a life she had onced lived. It was incomplete, but it was enough. This city had been her home. The people she knew were taken by Flood, and Primal, and Sundering. She had stood at the forefront of trying to bring it all back, keep their people safe, until...she left. 

Why? That was still unclear. But now she knew she had been there. Through all of it. 

When her vision cleared from the Echo’s grasp, she was panting for air, her fingers clutching the rock below her. She slowed her breathing, calmed herself, and sat upright. 

Emet-Selch knelt beside her, more concerned that she’d ever seen him. For her? Yes, likely in some part, but she couldn’t help but feel there was more to his emotion. He let her have a few long moments to collect herself, until she let out a long breath, a signal she was calm and collected. “Do you remember?”

She looked up at him, every question she’d asked herself answered in one moment of powerful, forceful memory. She met his eyes, finding a faint glimmer of hope in the golden depths. “Yes, I do. Well, most of it, I think.” She was too overwhelmed to smile at him, but she reached out her hand and took his arm, pulling him closer, to ground herself in his touch and remember what it truly felt like to be close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something to say? say it to my face at [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub!](https://discord.gg/9ZFH2mcp5W)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to “Tyta’s Headcanons about Amaurot”, can I take your order?
> 
> The rating is E now, because oh lordy we fuckin’ in this fic tonight.  
> CW: Light bondage.

  
  


Penelope -- No, Hecate, she remembered her true name now -- allowed Hades to help her to her feet. She was still overwhelmed, but managing. She had remembered many things, her name, her title, the city of Amaurot and the beautiful world in which they had lived, and her love. She had loved Hades once, and with the rush of memories, found she still did. Though she was much more conflicted now than before. She remembered that she had left, not long before the Sundering. Well, probably right before then. It seemed the closer to the dreaded event she tried to recall, the harder it became. She couldn’t remember why she had chosen to leave, but was suddenly wracked with guilt. 

She had left Hades, abandoned and alone, to face the Sundering without her. He had survived, unfractured, but at what cost? 

He was still silent, but he held her close, letting her cling to his arm as he rested his chin atop her head. When Hecate finally found it in herself to speak, it was barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have been there with you.” 

For a long moment, he said nothing. She began to panic, that he wouldn’t be able to forgive her, that leaving him for thousands upon thousands of years to suffer the loss of the Sundering alone was too much. But finally, he let out a soft breath, taking a small step back to look at her. “It’s alright, you’re here now.” Having known Hades as long as she did--and longer still, now that she remembered the time they spent together, she knew that was the closest to ‘I forgive you’ she was going to get. And Hades, for all his faults, generally meant what he said, it was just a matter of deciphering exactly what the meaning was or how much sarcasm was applied to his words. This, however, felt like genuine forgiveness. 

She nodded, happy that he hadn’t grown angry and bitter with her over the eons, but tears began to silently stream down her face as she considered all that was lost to her now. Her home, her world, the people she knew. And worse yet, she’d killed one of them. A dying people on the brink of extinction, and she’d reduced the number even further. She remembered Lahabrea for who he was now, though she hadn’t known him terribly well. He was loud, always fighting for his way or arguing his new idea. She remembered listening to Hades grumble about how stubborn he could be, but he had been one of the most outgoing and social people she knew as well. Funny, too. Lahabrea hadn’t deserved to die.

But when had he changed? The Lahabrea she remembered wasn’t someone who would deceive others, or employ horrific, ancient weapons without care for the loss of life.  _ Eons of fighting for what you lost might do that to someone. _ Igeyorhm, too. She had been quiet, but was always welcoming. Hecate had passed her more than a few times, bringing Lahabrea something to eat or a forgotten parcel when he wrapped himself up in his research, and she, too, had changed. 

Hecate looked up at Hades. He was different, she already knew that. Now, all that was left was to find out  _ how _ he was different. 

He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away what was left of her tears there. His hand fell to her shoulders as he gently guided her to face the long-lost city. “Come, there’s more to show you.” 

“I’d love to see it.” She admired the view from afar for a few moments more. “You made this, then?” 

Hades nodded. “Over time, yes. I built it from what I remembered. It isn’t perfect, obviously, but it’s something. A small piece of home.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if rebuilding an entire city from his memories was nothing unusual. With that, he pulled her through the shadows once more, down into the city proper. 

It was larger than she remembered, although she did suppose she was a bit smaller now. But the intricate beauty was there, lovingly recreated in detail she would have never been able to recall so clearly. 

There was a missing element, though. People. Color. Normally the streets bustled with activity and chatter. Everyone had time to stop and talk, socialize, ask what was the newest project on your socket. Gods, time had seemed like the least of their worries, then. How little they knew. 

Evidently, Hades, too, had thought of this, and tall, grey forms meandered about, though in far fewer numbers than she recalled. “Who are they?” The forms were unnerving. Lifeless. Where was the color? When Amaurot was in its prime, everyone had robes of rich colors and intricate embroidery. One could tell any Amaurotine apart by the dyes and designs of their robes, more distinct and unique than their faces. The masks they wore made to match and enhance the look, and yet they were all so similar in this augmented version of her home. She could distinctly recall Hyth’s robes, richly colored red and blue, gold embroidering a geometric pattern. His mask was just as brightly colored, the eyes shaped to look like someone mid-laugh. And it suited him. Hecate couldn’t remember a time Hythlodaeus wasn’t smiling, often at Hades’ expense. Lahabrea and Igeyorhm had matched, their colors different, but the patterns the same. Did Hades remember it differently? Or had her people changed that much in the time between her departure and the Sundering? 

“Shades. Nothing more.” Perhaps sensing her growing unease, Hades ushered Hecate further into the city. 

Attempting to regain some of her appreciation and awe, Hecate followed, her arm linked in Hades as they walked through the eerie, quiet streets. They stopped just short of the Capitol, entering one of the rising towers nearby. An elevator dinged a high, cheery note, opening the moment they came near. Entirely by design, she was sure. The pair stepped inside, and she sighed. That brought back memories. How many times had they stepped into an elevator, barely waiting for the doors to close before they pulled each other close, caught up in desire for each other, beginning their evening plans before they even reached home. She burned at the memory. Was he thinking the same thing? Glancing up at the ever-unflappable man, he showed no outward signs of it, though his eyes were half-lidded in contemplative thought. 

“Hey.” Hecate bumped her hip into his, stealing his attention away from his reverie. She knew this elevator ride would be a long one. “Are we going to talk about how you have children? And grandchildren?” She pursed her lips, though she wasn’t bothered by the fact. How could she, when she had been gone and, for all he had known, lost forever? 

“No,” he replied coolly. “Why would we? It’s not like I care for them much, anyway. A means to an end.” 

His answer was...expected, yet all the same, it bothered her. Hadn’t he valued close connections, once? “Our family...it was just us, wasn’t it? I’m not...forgetting anyone, am I?” 

His head tipped as he looked at her. “ _ We _ didn’t have children, if that’s what you’re getting at.” With an amused huff, he added, “You should see your face right now. You never used to be so easily flustered, my dear.”

Hecate pursed her lips and looked away. “Shut up, you’re so rude.” Her tone carried no bite whatsoever, and it earned a laugh from Emet-Selch.

“And yet,” he purred, loping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side, “you love me.” 

She hummed, leaning into him. “I do, though sometimes I wonder how.” How quickly she had fallen back to herself. All it took was a few memories, and it was like they had never parted. Someone she had just earlier today considered her enemy, Hecate now couldn’t imagine being without. That gave her pause. What would happen when they left Amaurot? Remembering her life before was a massive upheaval of everything she knew, but she didn’t want to leave a world to die. She was still the Warrior of Light, and there were people she loved, and a life she wanted to live. Maybe, just maybe, Hades would change his mind. A rarity, but not unheard of. 

The elevator rang out again, opening the doors to a brief hallway that contained a single door. Hades stepped forward, opening the door and gesturing with a sweep of his hand that she should enter. She did, giving him a facetious courtesy as she stepped in. He rolled his eyes, but smirked all the same, following after her. 

Taking in the room, Hecate gasped. “It’s our apartment!” It was exactly as she remembered it. Mostly dominated by large, arching windows, the room overlooked the city beyond, filled with natural light. Plants grew everywhere there was free space for them, and the large, comfortable couch that looked out the window sat in front of a table full of clutter, always left by her and tidied by Hades. A radio sat on a dresser in the corner, playing a bouncy, faded tune that occasionally skipped and crackled. “Oh, it’s perfect!” She beamed as she looked around the room, all but buzzing with delight as she looked over every detail. 

Hades settled himself onto the couch, content to watch her flit about and admire his work. She joined him as soon as he caught her eye, kicking off her boots and sinking into the soft cushions with a long sigh, leaning into his side. He reached forward, delicately plucking a flower from a vase nearby. A rose, classically red. 

  
  
  
  


_ Hecate sat, curled into a corner of the couch with a soft blanket, reading a book she had picked up on her travels and intended to read now that she was home. Hades was late coming home, but he often picked up unexpected duties, and while she missed him, she understood.  _

_ Yet, the door opened softly, and Hecate set her book down to give him her undivided attention. “Welcome home.” She smiled softly. He held something behind his robes, and her eyes flitted from his face, now unmasked, to his arms held behind his back. “And what are you hiding?”  _

_ “A gift. Close your eyes.”  _

_ “Mm, I suppose.” Hecate did, waiting as he settled himself on the couch beside her, setting something heavy table nearby. He fussed with the parcel for a moment, until he seemed content with however it was placed. _

_ “There. You can look now.”  _

_ Hecate opened her eyes to a bundle of bright red. Flowers? Yes, they were. Soft, velvet-like red petals folded together into a delicate weave that spread outwards from the center, simplistic yet graceful. She leaned in for a closer look, delicately using a finger to lift one of the blossoms. It smelled delightful, too. “They’re beautiful, Hades! Did someone in the Convocation make these?” _

_ He reached forward, taking one of the flowers by its stem and breaking it off with a twist, pulling it free of the small bush to hand to her for closer observation “No, I did. For you.” For once, he looked embarrassed, as he took his eyes off of her to study the plant. Hecate hadn't seen him like this since his first attempt to win her affection--not too long ago, all things considered. “The only creation of mine the Bureau has ever received, and will ever receive. Hyth was kind enough to ensure it was approved.” _

_ Hecate smiled, turning the flower in her hands. “They’re perfect.” She admired the blossom for a moment, but her brows raised as she noted the stem. “Although, I have to ask why it has thorns.”  _

_ “It’s made for you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t have something reminiscent of myself.”  _

_ Hecate hummed, “That is rather fitting. What a lovely representation of us.” She laughed, setting the flower aside to lean into Hades, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you, Hades. I adore them.” _

  
  
  
  


Hecate turned the flower in her hands as she lived the memory, this one much more pleasant than the last. She had forgotten that, under the sarcastic wit and seemingly endless reservoir for catty banter, he found spectacular ways to show his affection. She brought it closer to her face to take in the scent, letting the petals brush her lips as she smiled softly. “I remember when you gave these to me.” 

Leaving forward, Hades put an arm around her shoulder, moving so, delightfully close, letting his cheek rest gently on hers. “Good. I’m glad my effort didn’t go to waste. That would be such a shame.” 

Rolling her eyes, Hecate set the flower down. She grinned all the same, leaning harder into him. “You’re terrible, you know that? We can never just have a nice moment.” She pouted, disregarding the fact that for her, at least, the moment was perfect. Hades chuckled softly, the vibrato of his voice rolling so deliciously through her, she wanted to melt. His breath was warm on her neck, and an involuntary sigh escaped her lips. 

Part of her, most likely the Warrior of Light, felt guilty for the lewd thought that crossed her mind, but Hecate, Azem, the ancient Amaorotine traveler, wanted to indulge in them. How long had it been? She deserved some self-indulgence, didn’t she? Yes. She did. Consequences were always a problem for the future Hecate. 

With a perfunctory turn of her head, her lips had access to Hades’ neck, which she took full advantage of. She pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, letting a hand travel to his chest, slipping under the half-coat he wore to freely explore with only the thin white undershirt between her and his warmth. 

He responded to her touch with a short, breathy gasp, immediately followed by a pleased hum. Hades was quick to return the favor, the arm slung over her shoulder dropping to take her waist in his hands, urging her closer as he leaned his weight onto her, pushing Hecate onto her back, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. He shrugged his overcoat off with easy grace, letting it fall without care to the floor. 

Hades hovered over her, propped on his hands as knees, his short hair falling and framing his face. His golden eyes held their usual playful glint, but a far darker look, one bordering on predatory, accompanied the smirk on his lips. Pinned beneath him, Hecate bit her lip as she watched him, heat pooling in her stomach and anticipation racing through her like lightning. He laughed,  _ Gods _ , that deep, dark laugh. “I’ve waited for this for  _ so _ long.” Running the hand that didn’t firmly grip her waist over her cheek and through her hair, he jerked her forward with his newfound grip, his lips finding hers, eliciting a surprised, but not displeased, gasp from Hecate. He was so warm, tasted so sweet, exactly as she remembered him. She drank Hades in, savoring every moment, raising her body to meet his. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking to deepen the kiss. She was all too eager to oblige, her lips parting to grant him the access he sought, only to be spurned as he pulled away. “So eager,” he purred. “Don’t you want to savor the moment, my dear?” 

She pouted at the loss. “No.” She played with the collar of his robe, trailing her touch down his chest to toy with the belt that held it in place. “You know I’m not a very patient woman, Hades.” And Gods be damned if she wasn’t going make her teasing as difficult to ignore as possible. A constant back and forth of who would break first. An ancient game that never got old. She finally succeeded in unclipping the offending garment, pulling it free and letting it fall to the floor beside his jacket. 

Tracing a line from her waist, over her ribs and breasts to the buttons of her shirt that sat below her neck, Hades hummed in consideration of her words. “Mm, in that case I may just have to  _ make _ you wait.” Hecate’s eyebrows quirked up, her eyes flicking from the belt she had discarded to Hades’ face. He released his grip on her hair to unbutton her blouse all the faster, parting the fabric as he went, trailing soft kisses from the base of her throat to her chest and over her stomach. He pulled the shirt off of her shoulders as he went, and like everything else, was tossed carelessly aide. She gasped, her body arching toward him, encouraging  _ more _ . He reached her hipbones, sharply nipping where they protrude slightly from her body. Hecate brought her once wandering hand to her mouth, holding a bent finger between her lips. 

“Will you? And just how-” She reached upwards, taking his strands of white hair between two of her fingers. She tugged on the lock, “-do you plan on doing that, dear Architect?” She pulled on his scarf to bring him back to her, to bury her face in his neck one more, peppering from his jaw to shoulder with soft kisses and less-than gentle nips. He shifted, sitting upright to unwrap his red scarf from around his neck and toss his bulky robe away. He caught her wrists in his hands, bringing them together above her head as he stretched languidly above her. Deliberately, he let his hips brush hers, teasing her with his burgeoning arousal. She  _ craved _ it, anything, every touch of his like fire on her skin. 

Hecate didn’t struggle as Hades used his crimson scarf to die her wrists together above her head. She tested the strength of his knot. She could probably untie it with her teeth if she needed to, but that would likely only spark his lecherous ire further, and she’d end up even more bound than she was now. 

“That should suffice, so long as you behave. But you’ve never been good at that, have you?” Trailing his hand over her jaw, he lifted her chin towards him with two fingers, allowing his other hand to drop lower, tracing soft lines over her collarbones, lower, to circle her breast, achingly slowly and gentle. At the same moment he pressed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth to trail along her teeth, finally giving her what she had wanted, he pushed up on her breasts, his grip tight as she squirmed beneath him. She no longer cared about winning their little game. She craved his touch, and the longer he took, the more desperate she became. 

Hades broke the kiss once more, leaving them both panting for air. The break was brief, as he began to attack her skin with fervor, trailing his hands over her stomach as he inched downwards. Hooking two fingers in her pants, he hummed as he unhooked the clasps with his teeth, removing the clothing easily as Hecate shifted her weight to help. His mouth attacked her inner thigh, alternating between sucking hard on the soft skin and gently kissing the newfound mark, each one eliciting a moan or gasp from Hecate as a reward. “Hades, please.” she huffed. 

“Please what? You’ll have to be more clear, my dear.” She felt his smug smirk against her skin. Gods, she hated when he got cocky. His hands trailed down her thighs, his grip tightening as he lifted her leg. He rested his cheek on her thigh, looking up at her, that lazy, sardonic smile on his lips and golden eyes glistening, clearly content to wait and deny her further until he had an answer. 

She pouted, taking the opportunity to clamp his head between her thighs. The temptation to take his request less than seriously was high, but knowing him, he’d put his clothes back on and leave just to spite her. Hades was infinitely more patient than she’d ever been. “Would you fuck me, Hades? Please?” 

He hummed into her thigh. “Yes, eventually.” He chuckled at her impatient sigh, his fingers traced down her leg, hooking her underwear and to drag them away as she lowered her legs to allow him easier access, revealing the wet mess of Hecate’s folds. That seemed to please him, as he ran his fingers between her slit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, teasing her for another agonizing moment, until he pushed two digits, slowly, into her sex. 

Her hips rolled upwards to encourage him, as she buried her face into her arm and moaned softly, savoring the sensation of him as he curled his fingers deep inside, striking the perfect cord of sensation. As Hades put his lips on her clit, her moan became a sharp gasp. “Yes!” His slight laugh, a delicious addition to his circling tongue, only encouraged her further, as her hips rolled to meet every push of his fingers, to ask his mouth to work harder. 

Hecate was close, so close, the buildup in the pit of her stomach rapidly building to a sweet release. Her moans stopped as she held her breath in anticipation, every muscle in her lower body tensing. 

And then he stopped, withdrawing his fingers and pulling his lips away from her. She released the breath she was holding with an offended huff. Her eyes fluttered open to glare at him. 

“You have such an awful habit of getting quiet right before you come, darling. I want to hear you. But, I think you’ve been good enough for what you want, hm?” He gripped her ass firmly in his hands as he kissed up the length of her stomach, raising her hips as he readjusted his legs closer to her. His fully erect cock ran tauntingly between her folds. She gasped with need, and he was all too ready to give it to her. Her legs hooked around his waist to support her weight, his free hands traveled, one lining up his cock with her hole, the other taking a firm grip on the back of her neck as he arched over her, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. She tasted herself on him, sending another pang of need through her. His head teased her, betraying Hades’ words of promise not moments ago. Discontent to wait, Hecate pulled on his hips with her legs, forcing him to enter her inviting warmth as she purred into his mouth. 

He finally acquiesced to the promise of pleasure, setting a slow, steady rhythm. Burying his face into her neck, he let out a shuddering sigh. For all his smug bravado, Hecate knew how much he enjoyed the feel of her. Finding his shoulders the only thing in her reach, she pressed her lips to his skin. Her mouth parted to bite down and suck hard. She intended to leave with him plenty of marks for his insufferable teasing. He gasped at the sharp sensation, retaliating with a sharper thrust that had Hecate yelp with pleasure underneath him. Bringing her arms over her head, she hooked the back of Hades’ neck with his scarf, pulling him closer, encouraging him deeper, to give her  _ more. _ Her hands found purchase in his hair. She grinned, tugging on his hair to pull his head to the side, giving her wandering lips access to more of his neck. She took full advantage, resuming her attack on his skin, leaving a wake of bites and purple marks to just below his jaw. 

Unwrapping his arm from behind her, he pressed on her chest just above her sternum with his forearm, forcing her away from his neck. “If you don’t watch that pretty mouth of yours, I’ll have to take that away, too.” His voice was low and breathy, dangerous, and she shivered in delight. He wasn’t one to make idle threats, she knew, but she wanted to toe the line. How far could she push him before he broke? 

“You won’t.” she purred, teasing his tensed forearm with soft nibbles. 

He had no witty response to that, instead punishing her with an open-mouthed kiss at the base of her throat. She squeaked at the sensation as he dragged his tongue over her windpipe. It quickly turned to a deep moan of pleasure as he sucked,  _ hard _ , leaving a mark far larger and darker than she had on him. She didn’t care in the slightest, lost in the feeling of him as she was. His teeth were buried in her skin, as if to ground himself in her. He was flustered, breathing hard, damp with sweat, and Hecate was certain he was close. She raised her hips, grinding against him with gusto, pulling him in as deep as she could manage. His movement slowed as he buried himself in her, letting her bring them both pleasure with every movement of her hips. She could grind against him as she pleased, his cock in the perfect spot for her, drawing her ever closer to climax. Just a bit more, and she would be there. Hoarsely, she breathed in his ear, “Touch me.” His free hand wandered between her legs, rolling her clit under his thumb. She gasped as her stomach began to tense, pleasure rapidly building to release. 

Mindful to not hold her breath this time, she whimpered freely, her breath catching just before her release. As her hips bucked and her walls contracted, delight rolling through her, tingling and sweet in every facet of her body, she moaned loudly, deeply, crying out his name. 

He inhaled sharply, his grip on her neck tightened more as Hades rolled his hips into her, spending himself in her tight warmth with a low moan. She felt the twitch of his cock buried in her with his release, and she rolled her hips through the glow of her own release to assist him. He visibly relaxed, though he still panted heavily against her flushed skin. Hecate ran her fingers over what little of his shoulders she could reach while bound, pressing her forehead to his chest. She was content to simply lie and enjoy him, uncaring of what mess they might make of the furniture below them. He was content to do the same, lowering himself to rest more easily against her. A long moment of comfortable silence passed, letting nothing but touch convey love and longing. She traced small circles on his shoulders, he ran his hands down her back. Finally, he lifted her arms to duck under the arch of her tied hands. He kissed her wrist as he untied the knot, murmuring, “Gods, I missed you.” as he let the scarf fall.

Finally able to prop herself upright, she chased after him for a kiss on the lips. “I missed you, too. I’m glad I can have you again, Hades.” He hummed, pleased with her answer. Finally deciding to withdraw, he pulled out of her slowly, with a longing sigh. Hecate picked up the red scarf, using it to remove the worst of their mess from between her legs before standing. 

“I liked that scarf, you know.” 

“That’s too bad.” she chirped, digging through their pile of clothes to find hers. Hecate managed to find half of her far-flung clothes before giving up, deciding that was a problem for tomorrow her. Right now, she wanted to relax and sleep.

Her linkpearl began to ring from her bundle of clothes, and she chose to ignore it. There was absolutely no good way to explain where she was to the Scions. And she likely wouldn’t. 

She stepped into the bedroom, and evidently, Hades had a similar idea as her, already sprawled on the bed, not bothering to dress at all. A new red scarf was notably draped over the headboard. She joined him, pressing her back into his chest, sighing with contentment as his heavy arm fell over her waist, his nose buried in her hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something to say? say it to my face at [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub!](https://discord.gg/9ZFH2mcp5W)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should have slept on this and posted it after another round of editing but I don't want to. Consistent tone? Never heard of it.
> 
> Also rehashing canon is boring so assume everything is the same unless specifically stated otherwise.

Emet-Selch awoke, cold, but with Hecate still tucked under his arm. She had, impressively, stolen every blanket that adorned the bed and wrapped them around herself, leaving little more than a wayward corner for him to attempt to make due with. He wasn’t bothered by the lack of coverage, but the _principle_ mattered, so he grasped his scrap of corner and pulled, making no attempt whatsoever to avoid disturbing the occupant of the bedding cocoon. From somewhere within, Hecate grumbled unhappily, burying herself further into the mess. Hades didn’t relent, fully separating her from the blankets, at which point he shoved them onto the floor. If he had to suffer, so did she. 

It didn’t take long for her eyes to crack open as she shivered, letting out a displeased sigh. Hecate blinked wearily at Hades, who simply gave her an impassive stare, then she looked to the blankets on the floor. 

“You’re so rude.” She huffed. But he knew that once she was awake, she wouldn’t go back to sleep, and she began a cat-like forward and backward stretch. She lingered a moment on all fours, considering, until she fell limp onto her side, directly onto his chest. He sputtered under the impact, and she laughed. Hades might be sardonic and petty, but so was she. 

“A poor choice, on your part.” Hades hummed, wrapping his arms around her midsection and holding tight, refusing to let her go. Not that she struggled, but instead sank more comfortably against him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the comfort of touch. With only the faintest suspension of his disbelief, Hades could close his eyes and imagine that they were in their halcyon days in Amaurot proper once more, carefree and in love with nothing but bright future together, no end in sight. But as all things did, those days had ended too soon.  
  
And for so long, he’d fought to bring them back by rejoining the Source to all her fragments. But now, the most important thing he’d lost was here. His intent had always been to find her soul again once the Source was whole, certain that she was gone, like everyone else. But Hecate was _here_ . He _could_ keep her, have her and enjoy the time they’d lost, even if she was a fraction of herself, but he knew that if he continued on this course, to bring their world back by instigating Calamity after Calamity, she wouldn’t stay. She’d fight him every step of the way, because Hecate had always _cared_ about those she was close to, and even those she wasn’t. And her new life had forged new bonds that she wouldn’t see ravaged by Rejoinings. She’d believed more than anyone that the life created at the hands of Amaurotines was their own.

It left him at an impossible crossroads. Continue his course, reforge his home and his people, turn on his brothers, and be forced to kill the one he had cherished the most of them all, or keep her, and abandon the dream of bringing back the world he had known. Despair he’d buried long ago began to bubble in his soul again, a feeling impossibly dark and helpless.

How had he ever coped with it before?

“Hey,” Hecate’s voice was soft. Concerned. He almost didn’t hear it through the dark storm of his thoughts. “Are you okay?” 

No, he wasn’t. And he knew she knew he wasn’t. She had a _look_ in her eyes, full of adoration and concern, that was reserved only for him when life’s burdens had felt too heavy. She had always been there, to hold him, ground him, assure him that this, too would pass. 

Except for when he had needed her most. 

Hades reigned in his emotions quickly, his expression returning to his usual mask of faintly judgemental indifference. “I’ll be fine.”

She obviously didn’t believe him, and he could see in her expression, lips slightly pouted and brow barely furrowed, that she was deciding whether or not to pry. Thankfully, she let the matter drop. 

“Okay. If you’re sure.” 

He wasn’t. He wanted to ask if she would stay this time, keep the promise she’d made to never leave him, help him rebuild the life they’d lost and bring the world back to a perfect state it had once been in. But he knew the answer, and he knew he wasn’t in an acceptable state to hear it from her and solidify the inevitable, impossible decision awaiting him. 

They lay together a while more, in tense and uncomfortable silence. Hecate was the first to break it, huffing as she sat up to pry himself out of his arms. She lingered a moment there, looking down at him, but ultimately anything she might have considered saying was unspoken. She stood, beginning a proper search for her belongings that lay scattered about the apartment. 

A thought so painful it struck like a knife to the heart hit Hades. Did she regret this? 

Hecate hummed as she dressed, the song slow, sad, and faintly nostalgic. She didn’t sing when she was upset, allowing Hades to comfortably convince himself everything was fine. He finally rose, not bothering to find his previous night’s garments as she had, but instead letting shadow materialize new ones. Hecate noted this out of the corner of her eye, facing him as she leaned against the couch. She raised her hand and, in a move she had _clearly_ stolen from him, snapped her fingers, and her outfit changed in a short burst of blue light. 

“Did you do that just to prove you could?” 

“Absolutely. You’re not the only one with fancy clothes magic.” She grinned at him as he scoffed. “Every now and then someone has to remind you that you’re not that special; keeps you from getting too uppity.” Her linkpearl began to flash and hum, and she gave it a despondent sigh before holding a hand to her ear to answer. “Hey, what’s up?” 

There was a pause, and while Emet could have overheard the other end if he’d put his mind to it, he was willing to grant her this measure of privacy. 

“Mhm, I went back to the Source to check on a few things, get some supplies, you know. I’m on my way back to the Crystarium now. See you then.” And the brief call was over.

He was almost impressed with how easily she lied to her supposed friends. And he told her as much, drawing a single, only slightly bitter laugh from her. 

“It’s not like they’re not lying to me all the time. Urianger in particular is a _master_ of lies of omission. I’m _sure_ there’s something he’s not telling me right now, why can’t I do the same?” She shrugged. “Especially when it’s my...personal business.”

Emet tipped his head with interest. “I can personally assure you that they are. And that doesn’t bother you?” He’d planned to exploit this fatal flaw in their group anyway, but more information never hurt.

“Nah, not really.” Hecate shrugged, casually destroying his idea with shocking amounts of apathy to an, at best, _concerning_ revelation. “Most of the time it’s been for a good enough reason, I trust their judgement; whatever they’re hiding from me is probably for the best. Sometimes someone’s got to not be in the know, it just usually ends up being me. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t die for any one of the Scions.” 

While he did find it rather annoying she had an entourage wherever she went, it was endearing to know Hecate, even after all this time, had the same effect on people she always had. Ever linking people together and making them greater than the sum of their parts. 

It didn’t make it any less irritating. He was half-tempted to tell her what Urianger and the Exarch had planned, just to ruin it for everyone. Though the idea had initially been a bitter, internal joke, it quickly became more as he stewed on it. If he told her, would it save her? 

No, even if he did, she’d do it anyway. Stupidly selfless for all the wrong people, as always. And there was no saving her, not anymore. He’d made his choice long ago. He intended to see it through.

“Listen, this has been a lot of fun, call me again sometime, really, but I do have to go. Lightwardens to kill and all that.”

“Far be it from me to keep you from your destiny, _hero._ ” 

“So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” She laughed as she drew aether around herself, preparing to travel via current back to a crystal. “See you later then, Ascian.” 

And she was gone. The moment he wanted to pretend would last forever was over. Inevitable reality came crashing in, and an impossible choice had to be made. As he had so long ago, when the despair and hopelessness became too great to bear, he let darkness numb the pain. Only one thing really mattered, in the end. The Source would be rejoined, the Ancients would live again, Zodiark’s will would be done. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Emet-Selch stood in the Crystarium, facing Hecate--though he supposed he should call her Penelope in earshot of parties out of the know-- and the group of Scions as he began an in-depth look into how the Source came to be split apart in the first place, and the end goal--Rejoining every fragment back to the first. The display was something he’d had to prepare himself for. He knew Penelope was going to be... _upset_ with that revelation. Particularly that it had already happened seven times, instigated by himself or one of the other Ascians. This moment could very well be the one that set that on irreparably different paths, each ending in the death of the other. Either she would accept the Rejoining as a necessity, or she would see it as an unforgivable sin. As much as he hoped it could be the former, he knew she’d never stand for it. But he had to try. 

And when the scene faded, she had nothing to say. The Mi’quote women he’d rescued had a few bitter words for him, as did the twins, but Penelope stayed silent. He knew that to be a bad sign. Her anger was quiet. After a long pause, in which everyone expected her to have something to say, she finally spoke.

“Is that _really_ what you think will bring them back?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the depths of anger in her tone was enough to take every Scion aback, particularly Alphinaud, who visibly flinched. Emet assumed he had seen her furious before, but not the others. 

And her question irritated him. Paired with her nonchalant, abrupt departure that morning, and the position of choice between the two things he loved most she’d put him in, it was enough to make him just as angry. “Of course I do. Do you think I would waste centuries of my time trying to rejoin every Shard if I didn’t think it would _work?_ That I would do it for, what, the laughs?” 

“Zodiark isn’t going to bring them back, Emet!” Even he was briefly taken aback by the anger in her voice. “That’s not how They _work!_ They _only_ take, and to think that our people could _ever_ come back is being wilfully stupid. I’ve seen Primals try to resurrect the dead, Emet. They _can’t._ ” So she was going to bare it all. And the Scions, though unwilling to interrupt, had clearly caught on to her less-than-subtle phrasing. She’d outed herself. That, however, was not Emet’s problem.

He spat his words with more venom than he’d intended, “Zodiark is far more powerful than the pitiful Primals your kind manage to create! They’re not even comparable! It is possible. Zodiark gave life to the planet before this, it’s only fit They can return it.” 

“I know they did. But there are things that _can’t_ be done. Making a planet inhabitable and bringing back the _souls_ of people who have died are different! Even if They can, do you think this is what they’d want? To come back to a world that gave up everything so we can live? Our time is _over_ , Emet.” She paused, her anger set aside, genuine sadness creeping through, softening her expression as she looked at him. “Hyth wouldn’t want this. Can you imagine bringing him back to a world sacrificed for his life? What would he think of us?”

She was right, but the audacity she had to bring _him_ into this--Hades’ rage peaked, but he smothered it quickly, controlling his expression and forcing it to his normal aloof neutrality. It didn’t fool her, he knew that. They could read each other with little effort, sense sharpened by ages of familiarity. “Think what you will. It changes nothing; Zodiark’s will will be done.” Even if what she said was true, he had to try. He wasn’t going to let their people fade away into nothing, forgotten by people, history, and time. It was more than she was doing. She hadn’t put her faith in Them when They had done so much, and she never would. 

“Oh Gods, I’m an idiot.” Penelope stared at him, her eyes wide with realization. 

“Yes, and?” 

“You’re _tempered._ ” 

He scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Everything I do, I do of my free will for our people.” Zodiark was simply the only way to achieve that. Of course he would place his faith in Them. Didn’t he? When the world had been unfathomably cruel, and the weight of an entire world was on his shoulders, Zodiark had been gracious enough to relieve him of that pain. 

She didn’t believe his words. She said nothing, but closed her eyes and let out a soft, heartbroken sigh, accepting an awful truth. Maybe she had held out hope for him--foolish though that may be, he was flattered by the idea--but it was gone now. And so was his. The inevitable finally came to a head, leaving them both in contemplative silence. 

Finally, Emet spoke. “Go, then. Do what you must.” With those last dismissive, sarcastic words, he waved and disappeared, to retreat to the darkness where he could smother his thoughts and keep her out of his sight and mind. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Unfortunately for both of them, it was hard to stay away. He found himself stealing glimpses. Hecate was in Eulmore now, having ousted Vauthry from the gaudy city not hours before. He lingered, quietly watching unseen from the shadows. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I am absolutely exhausted.” She leaned on a wall, sitting with her elbows on her knees as she looked over a small crowd of people. Alphinaud--Hades had learned his name by osmosis now-- sat next to her, leaning on her shoulder as Ryne slept against the other. Alphinaud nodded perfunctorily. Both of them had been running themselves ragged tending to the wounded they themselves had created as they stormed the city. 

With a bit of eavesdropping, Emet had figured Penelope had told the Scions the very base of what they needed to know to make sense of their argument--that she was, somehow, from the same old world that he was. A civilization lost to time. They had accepted it with shocking ease, though she had left out their relationship. 

Understandable, but still rude. 

Alphinaud stretched his arms, lacing his fingers together to reach outward as he settled more comfortably into her side. “As am I. But we did good today. All we have to do now is take the fight to Vauthry. How, I don’t really know, but at least he’s had the decency to get out of a crowded city of innocent people.” 

Alisaie found her way to them, and seeing there was no side of Penelope left to claim, dropped between her knees instead, leaning her back against the Warrior’s chest. “I found an open room.” 

She was smiling as she said it, coloring her tone enough to make Penelope respond with a skeptical, “Oh? And here I thought they were all being used for the wounded.” 

“No, you’re in luck actually! There’s a room _completely_ free! It’s just attached to the Beehive.” 

Penny threw her head back and laughed. “Is anyone even allowed to have one of the rooms to themselves? I thought there was a minimum capacity of two.” 

“I’d love to see them try to make you adhere to that.” Alisaie grinned. 

“The perks of being famous and powerful. The rules just don’t apply to me.” 

“It’s a little sad how true that is.” Alphinaud piped up. “Of course, a woman of your _outstanding_ character would never dream of bending the rules for her benefit, right?” 

Hooking an arm around his shoulder, Penny gave him a brief, reassuring squeeze, completely contradictory to her sarcastic reply, “Of _course_ not.” 

He chuckled, pulling himself out from under her arm to stand. “You should go get some rest, though. The worst is yet to come, I fear.” 

“He’s right.” Alisaie leaned to shake Ryne awake, who blinked wearily and rubbed her eyes, sitting up without complaint. “We can keep an eye on things and come get you if anything becomes too catastrophic.” 

Nodding in agreement, Penny followed Alisaie to the aforementioned room. The twin threw open the door with an exaggerated bow, revealing the interior of the room to be shockingly gaudy. Every inch was covered in red cloth of some variety. A bowl of rose petals sat on the nightstand, and the bed was, naturally, heart-shaped. Both women began to laugh rakishly, Penelope leaning on Alisaie for support when her fit of laughter continued so long it became breathless wheezing. 

As she breathed in and out, struggling to control her fits of giggles, Penny pulled Alisaie into a tight hug. “I fucking adore you, Alisaie.”

“And here I thought _I_ was the gay one.” 

“You are. Now go be gay somewhere else, I’m tired.” She all but shoved a cackling Alisaie away from the door, retreating inside, where she let out a long, content sigh, ungracefully shrugging her bow and heavy armored jacket onto the floor without care. 

Apparently glad to simply be out of a crowd, Penelope closed her eyes and revelled in the silence. She glanced at the bed, but after a moment of deliberation, decided to step onto the balcony instead, breathing in the cool sea air.

Settling herself onto the stone railing, back to the wall, she let one leg hang freely over the edge as she looked out over the dead, grey sea. She raised her hands for a moment, snapping her fingers to summon a small harp to her hands. She didn’t play yet, though her fingers ghosted over the strings, considering a melody. 

Finally satisfied after a few minutes of this, she began to pick at the strings. The tune was slow and sad, regretful, yet somehow deeply nostalgic, though Emet had never heard a similar melody before. 

She wouldn’t want to see him, he was sure. But to have their last words be in anger, again? No, he had to at least try. 

As he appeared, sitting on the railing near her, she barely acknowledged him. Her song didn’t waver, she picked the strings as if she were still alone and uninterrupted. 

He shouldn’t have come. He didn’t know what to say, really. He figured some quip would spring to his mind, or she’d have something to say he could work off of. But for once, he had nothing. So they sat, wordless, as she played her song and he considered how he might still change her mind. 

Finally, the music stopped, and Hecate lay her harp across her lap. “I figured you’d show up again sooner or later.” 

Emet hummed. “Didn’t I say you can’t get rid of me that easily?” 

“You did.” She agreed. 

Clearly calmed from their confrontation days ago at the Crystal Tower, Hades turned slightly to look at her, meeting her eyes as he did. Their usual bright liveliness was gone, dulled by a sadness that weighed on her soul. It was paler still than the last time he had seen her, slowly dulling as time went on. Even without the light that would come from Vauthry, he knew already there was no hope for her surviving. The Scions had their solution, but it wouldn’t come to fruition. He couldn’t let it. 

Vaguely, he felt that wasn’t true. That he could let the Light be taken elsewhere and avoid instigating the flood. But it was a thought quickly smothered. There was no going against it, now. Too much had happened to turn back. There was only forward, toward the rejoining and return of Zodiark.

Even if she lived, he reasoned with himself, it only served as proof that she wasn’t who she used to be. Like everything and everyone else, she was broken. A fragment of something that had once been beautiful, but alone served only as a drab reminder of what had been. He hated it. Hated that of all the people to survive, she hadn’t been one. 

He attempted to turn that anger inward, to make himself feel justified in his goal, despite how easy it would be to give it up and enjoy what he had left of Hecate. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it? 

But, no. It was too late for that.

“For what it’s worth,” she spoke again, quietly, “I’m glad you came.” 

And so was he. Even if their fates were inevitable, he could at least be content to see her one last time, and not in anger. “You know I can’t stay away.” He sighed, as if being near her were some burden he had to bear. That wasn’t entirely untrue, in a manner of speaking, but it was one he had placed entirely upon himself, and was willing to bear, at least for a little while.

Hecate hummed, picking up her harp to strum once more. “It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.” The hope in her voice was all too clearly forced. 

“But it does, my dear. There’s simply no way around it anymore.” Hades shifted, turning to sit on the railing to face her. “It was foolish enough of me to even indulge in the thought. It doesn’t mean much, but I am at least sorry I dragged you in as far as I did. It would have been better for you to not remember. I should have left you well enough alone.” 

She laughed at that, prompting him to raise an eyebrow. 

“We’ve always been terrible at giving up on each other.” That was true. “And don’t be sorry. I’m glad I got to remember.” 

“And will you still be, when the end inevitably comes for one of us?” 

“I don’t know. I’m actually trying really hard not to think about it, actually, and you’re making it really difficult.” 

“You’ll have to accept my condolences, you know I’d never intentionally make something harder for you.” 

She laughed at that--the bright, joyous laugh he remembered so fondly--her melody faltering as she couldn’t keep playing through the fit. She grinned wolfishly as she regained her composure, settling her harp back into her lap. “You’re such an asshole.” 

“Oh, I’ve never heard that before.” The banter fell off as he listened to her melody start once again. This time, after a few rounds of notes, she began to sing. 

“All our splendour bathed black in silence, our surrender a sombre reverie,

Slowly drifting down into twilight, left to sifting through faded memories,

Know our places, for worth is wordless, evanescent, this writing on the wall.”

When her words had faded off, he had nothing to say. The melody made his heart ache. For something she hadn’t seen, lived through, and remembered for thousands of years, she could certainly capture a feeling well. Hades had always remembered her songs being upbeat and hopeful, though he couldn’t imagine she had much hope to write about now.

When the silence dragged on too long, she stopped playing, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s a work in progress.” 

“It’s lovely, as usual.” He admitted. Sharper than any knife in his heart, certainly, but beautiful nonetheless. Not unlike Hecate herself. 

“Thank you.” She dismissed the instrument in much the same way she had summoned it in the first place. She looked away from him to watch the waves of the sea once more. “I know…” With a sigh, she seemed to resign herself, “I know it’s probably not going to make things any easier or fix what’s happening, but would you want to stay the night?” 

She was absolutely right in that staying would only make the departure harder. “Isn’t Hydaelyn’s champion inviting someone tempered by Zodiark into her bed against some kind of...I don’t know, moral code?” 

“Yeah, probably, but I’m trying really hard not to think about that, too, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring it up. I’m losing my plausible deniability.” 

“Very well, I won’t. But also consider, aren’t you supposed to be well rested for a contest of strength and wills with the last Lightwarden soon? We wouldn’t want you in anything but peak condition, after all.”

“I don’t sleep well lately anyway. Whenever I close my eyes it’s just...bright. It’s weird _and_ terrible. And I always feel...anxious. Not about anything in particular, it just lingers constantly. I assume it’s unresolved anxiety about coping with my own mortality, because I _know_ letting me take all that Light is a bad idea and I’m probably not going to survive it. That also makes it hard to sleep.” She sighed wearily. “Look, if you don’t want to, just tell me. I’m a big girl, Hades.”

A pang of guilt ran through him as she confessed her fears, though he had nothing to say. Confirming she was right didn’t seem appropriate, but telling her she’d be fine would be blatantly lying, something she was all too good at picking up on. He stood, reaching for her hand. Instead, he focused on the end of her outburst. “I certainly do. I just want to be sure you don’t have any regrets.” 

She raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re being oddly considerate of my needs.” 

It was the least he could do for her now. “Never let it be said that I didn’t care.” 

She took his outstretched hand, lacing her fingers through his. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She knew as well as he did that this would be the end. She pulled him inside, pausing when her eyes fell on the interior of the room. She’d apparently forgotten it, and she clicked her tongue as took in the deep red decor and tacky bed. “You know, this was really funny before, but now it’s…”

“Garish and tonally inappropriate?” 

“Yup.” She sighed, but ultimately wasn’t going to let a heart-shaped bed stop her. She dragged Hades to it and he followed without resistance. Far be it from him to deny her for one last night. They were both being too selfish for their own good, unwilling to let each other go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something to say? say it to my face at [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub!](https://discord.gg/9ZFH2mcp5W)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter is going to be establishing Penny's relationship with the Scions because its fun to write and I like them.
> 
> Also we're gonna pretend Ardbert is just a friendly ghost because it doesn't fit the narrative I want well. And skip over a bunch of plot stuff that would probably be different but fuck, man. That's a lot of rehashing and it just sucks.
> 
> Also, I just want to clarify before this chapter that I do plan for this story to have a happy ending! And probably won't have as many chapters as I initially outlined.

Hades reached up, hooking his fingers on the back of her neck, dragging a thumb over her cheek as she straddled his hips. She leaned into his touch, sighing softly. “You must know I love you. More than anything that has ever graced this star since the dawn of time, I love you.” He spoke, quietly. “There wasn’t a moment you were gone where I didn’t ache for your loss.” 

Guilt pooled painfully in her stomach. She wanted to stop him. 

_Don’t._

_Don’t make it harder._

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t spurn him that way, not after all this time. Penny was emotionally torn, and the ensuing internal debate she was forced to have was unbearable. The Warrior of Light argued this was a ruse, and all he hoped for was to guilt her into letting him have his way with the Rejoining. Azem knew he was telling the truth. It was far easier to listen to the one she’d been longer, the identity she’d carried with her for years, who slew Primals, fought for Eorzea, and killed Ascians. It was easier to listen to the one who thought Emet-Selch had been a nuisance, if an amusing one. It was easier to listen to the one who could handle letting go.

She shifted her weight off of him and fell to her side on the bed. She trailed her fingers over his arm, replying, “And I, you. I would change everything, if I could go back.” Her reply was genuine. If only she could return to the time before the Sundering, try harder to convince the Convocation that Zodiark wasn’t necessary, that Hydaelyn would shatter everything they knew to pieces. He had nothing to say, though she could only imagine he thought plenty.

Penelope had toyed with the idea before. If the Crystal Exarch could travel back in time… No, there was no way. The Sundering had happened so long ago. She discarded the idea indefinitely. Not that she wanted to mull over how to fix _now,_ either. She’d given up on that some time ago, and now all it accomplished was making her heart ache. So she buried her face into Emet’s side, and all her thoughts with it. _Just enjoy this, while I still can._ Her eyes closed, but the Gods-forsaken light offered no reprieve as she tried to sleep. Emet shifted, and before Penny could ask what he was doing, he trailed a gentle hand through her hair, letting his touch rest on her cheek.

She could sense a shift in aether, a burgeoning of shadow that instinctually set her on high alert. But she resisted the urge to snap her eyes open and willed her body to relax, and with all the trust for Emet-Selch she could muster, let the dark aether settle over her. 

The light behind her eyes faded to a dull glow, once she could easily manage to sleep through. She sighed with grateful relief. “Thank you.” 

She quickly realized what a foolish notion it was to distrust the dark aether so completely. If light had caused a cataclysm on the First, a little shadow wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Aether had no alignment, only people did. 

Hades hummed, withdrawing his touch. “Think nothing of it. Sleep well, my dear.” More shifting prompted Penny to crack open her eyes. He’d gotten up. 

“Hades, wait, _please_ , don’t--” 

With his signature snap, he was gone without a word. She didn’t want to admit it, but leaving was probably the best thing he could do for her, and she knew it. It didn’t make it hurt any less.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Oh, thank you!” Penny chirped, as the Crystal Exarch set a tray in front of her. A steaming cup of tea sat next to a plate of some sort of egg dish, flaky bread on the side under a generous amount of sauce. 

“It’s my pleasure, truly.” He nodded, taking a seat next to her. The two of them had always been the earliest risers, though Penelope suspected it was because the Exarch didn’t sleep at all. She, on the other hand, would have loved to sleep until well past midday, but getting meaningful rest wasn’t something she did lately. 

Truth be told, the Exarch made her a bit uncomfortable when he went into his moods of being enamoured with her, and she didn’t like that he wouldn’t tell her who he was, even though she knew. Really, who else could it be but G’raha Tia? Penny wasn’t a scholar like the rest of the Scions, but she could put a puzzle together. There was no mistaking that he was the same G’raha as before.She hadn’t left anyone else in the Crystal Tower.

And he was so...invested in her, when she hadn’t really felt like she did anything, even back at the Crystal Tower of Eorzea. After killing Lightwardens, sure, but he had been weirdly enamoured with her before that. She liked him when he wasn’t fawning over her, but she had the distinct feeling one of those moods was rapidly approaching. So in lieu of conversation, she made sure there was no point she didn’t have food in her mouth, knowing he was too polite to bring up any talking points while she was eating. Y’shtola was the next one to seat herself at the table, gracefully placing herself across from the Exarch. Relief washed over the Penelope. Y’shtola was a fantastic combination of wordlessly in-tune with Penny’s mood and unwilling to take shit from literally anyone. She couldn’t count the number of times Y’shtola had come to her rescue, stepping in to verbally slap someone when Penny couldn’t find the energy to do so herself.

Once the plate of food was empty, however, the Exarch pounced. “Did you sleep well, Penelope?” 

“No, of course not.” She sighed, irritation unintentionally coloring her tone, leaning back in her chair. The light subsiding had been a nice gesture, but Emet getting up and leaving her without a word had completely negated that benefit. 

The Exarch thought for a moment, and apparently found her tone wanting. “Tell me, have I done something to offend you?”

Penny looked at Y’shtola, who silently rolled her eyes. 

“No,” the Warrior started, “I’m just tired, I feel awful, and I’m under an awful lot of pressure. Although, since we’re on the topic, can you turn the hero worship down a little bit? It’s...smothering, sometimes. I get that I’ve inspired you and stuff but it’s a little much sometimes.”

“O-oh,” he responded, followed by a long pause. “I’m sorry if I-”

“It’s fine, really. Just try to tone it back a little, okay? I want a friend, not a worshipper.” 

He nodded quietly, though his silence had the distinct air of being sullen. He would be fine, of course, and so would she. She really did enjoy his company, aloof and secretive though he may be.

In fact, why not try to lighten the mood a little? “Y’shtola?” Penny inquired, “What exactly do Keepers of the Sun do to their catboys to make them so…” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the entire form of the Exarch.

She grinned as his head jerked up. 

“Hells if I know.” Y’shtola smiled, her eyes narrowed and an equally mocking smile curling her lips as she looked at the Exarch. “There’s a reason I’ve sworn off of them completely.”

Suddenly cornered, the Exarch sputtered. “I-I have no idea what you mean.” 

He was a terrible liar. Unlike Urianger, who could lie to her face and not show an ilm of emotion, the Exarch quickly wavered, his voice and stiffness of his body giving him away. She’d been told he was lying to her, yes, but she strongly suspected it had to be one of omission for him to keep up any pretense of a falsehood.

Penelope hummed, a sarcastic acceptance of his denial. “Of course. You just reminded me of someone I used to know.” She let the matter drop there. If he wasn’t going to tell her when he had an opportunity to do so, so be it. 

The rest of the Scions filed out in time, crowding the small table. 

“So,” Thancred drummed his fingers on the table, looking expectantly at Penny, “do we have a plan for chasing Vauthry into the sky?” 

“Nope!” 

“Are we winging it then?”

“It’s always worked out when we’ve done it before, hasn’t it?” 

“Can’t argue with that. Let’s get going.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Penny watched the people of Eulmore bustle about to repair the Ladder, leaning against Birdie the chocobo as he napped on the cool tile. She did love it when a plan came together with little to no input of her own. She’d never have been as effective at saving the world as she was without the Scions. What she lacked in planning, magical ability, and social tact, they made up for in droves. Who knows where in the world she would be without Alphinaud to make diplomatic overtures or Y’shtola and Urinager to know what weird aether disturbances were happening. Thancred pulled everyone together and kept people sane even when they felt like killing each other, and Alisaie was all too willing to throw herself into danger and dig for the truth. Penelope was there to be an inspiring figurehead and shoot things with arrows, and that was exactly the way she liked it. 

As she waited, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Without a shadow of a doubt, the feeling could be attributed to Emet, waiting in the wings, doing who-knows-what. She ignored it, and decided to find a distraction. 

Ryne hadn’t had much to contribute to the effort, and Thancred had shooed her away out of concern she might be hurt by heavy machinery, so she sat nearby, enchanting Thancred’s gunblade shells and humming softly to herself. Penny adored her completely. Giving her her own name had been long overdue. She deserved to be her own light and not suffer under Minifillia’s shadow, and there wasn’t enough happiness in the world Penny could wish her. She glanced up at the relaxing bard from time to time, and Penny took the opportunity to pipe up.

“Ryne, why do you keep looking at me like that? If you’ve got a problem, say it to my face.” 

The redhead paused, fiddling with the shell in her hands. She knew Penny well enough to never take her words at face value, and correctly assume the bard was teasing her. “Um, okay, but--” she cast a nervous glance at the sleeping chocobo. “--does he bite? I’ve never been that close to a chocobo before. Isn’t he dirty?” 

Penny blinked, taken aback on her chocobo’s behalf. “What? No. He’s a sweetheart who’s never pecked anyone who didn’t deserve it, and I’ll have you know he cleans his feathers every day.” 

Clearly still a little nervous, Ryne approached, settling onto her knees in front of Penny, though giving the bird a healthy amount of space. “They’re a lot bigger than I thought they would be.” 

“Do they really not have chocobos in Eulmore? Races are all the rage with the bourgeoisie in Ul’dah, I figured it’d be the same here.” 

Ryne shook her head. “No, they’re _‘peasant’_ animals. From what I heard everyone thinks they have fleas and make a giant mess.” 

Penny tipped her head, reaching to scratch the black-feathered chocobo under his beak. He trilled, opening his dark eyes, which focused on Ryne. “That last part is true, at least. I swear he’s friendly. Here, let him sniff your hand.” 

Nervously, she reached out, holding her palm up for the bird to observe. He leaned closer, giving her hand a slight sniff, before he shoved his beak into her small hand, demanding to be pet. “Oh!” She squealed, but rubbed under his beak as she had watched Penny do before. 

“See? He’s a big sweetie.” 

Ryne giggled, her hands wandering over the chocobo’s feathered head, delighted at the different reactions she could get from him as she scratched different places. “He’s softer than I thought he would be! I always thought they looked scratchy.” 

“I used to think the same thing about Thancred.” 

“Even the part where he has fleas and smells?” 

“Especially that part.” 

Ryne giggled with delight. She and Thancred were on much better terms now than they were before, but she did still enjoy a good dig at his expense. She cooed at the bird, running her hands over his beak. “What’s his name?”

“His full name is Ser Haurchefant Bird the Second. It was originally a joke, I’d talk to the bird and the friend who gave him to me would think I was talking to him. But it got a little too sad and weird to call him that when Haurchefant proper passed away, so he’s just Birdie now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something sad.” 

Penny shrugged. “I did it to myself when I gave him that name, and it’s been a long time. It stings a lot less now.” 

Ryne was quiet, contemplating her words. Penny could only imagine she was struggling through something similar, with the loss of a father figure, however misguided he may have been. Love was a complicated thing. 

Finally, she spoke again. “Did he think it was funny? The joke, I mean.” 

Smiling fondly, Penny nodded. “I only got to make it once, but Gods, did he laugh.” 

Ryne seemed satisfied with that answer, and let her hands fall back to her lap. Birdie squawked indignantly, clearly not satisfied with how long he had been pet, and shoved his head into Ryne’s lap. She gasped, but quickly recovered and began to scratch him in earnest. His leg twitched with delight, almost kicking Penny off of his side, and Ryne laughed joyously at his antics.

Penelope rolled her eyes, but grinned all the same, content to let Ryne dote on the bird until the Ladder was ready to operate. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mt. Gulg--Penny could not express with words how much she hated that name--hadn’t been an easy climb. Fortunately, she was sure-footed, good with a bow, and backed by the Scions. Now, Vauthry--no, Innocence-- lay at her feet. She scowled at him, recoiling away in disgust as he pleaded with his last moments. 

She didn’t want his light. But she knew there was no choice, and steeled herself for the inevitable. The light was never comfortable, and she already felt awful as it was. This wasn’t going to end well, and she knew it. All she could do was hope. Hope she was wrong, hope she could handle it, hope that whatever secrets had been kept from her would be enough. 

The effect wasn’t instant. Her first two hopes had time to flourish briefly before they died. At first, she was numb. The night came back, briefly. 

And then pain ripped through her body. Like fire, it burned every inch of her skin, and the sickly light came flooding back. She fell to the ground with a strangled cry of pain. 

“Penny! Are you alright?” Alisaie was the first to rush forward. 

“Do I _look_ alright!?” She hissed through her clenched teeth, her fingers digging into the smooth stone below her as her vision blurred. People spoke, but she couldn’t make anything out of it. She was blinded by pain, unable to focus on anything. 

Finally, blessedly, some relief came. 

The Exarch. He...was betraying her? No, he was...trying to make it easier to lose him, she supposed. A noble thought, if she didn’t think about it too hard. Not that she really had time to consider it. Was he saying good-bye? Did he...No. 

_No_. Not him too. Penny reached forward, using every bit of strength she had. “G’raha Tia, please, don’t go, don’t do this!”

With an ear-shattering crack, the only person in the world who could have saved her collapsed. Too shocked to have any real reaction, she stared at his body on the ground, until the fire came rushing back, sending her back to the ground with another scream of agony. 

Muffled shouting was happening all around her, but it was drowned out by her own pained sobs.

Then, a hand touched her face. Delicate fingers lifted her chin, and for a moment she was blessed again with clarity. 

Hades looked at her, crouched to be at her level, his brow furrowed with...something. Irritation? Why? 

Her mind was addled with the pain, delirious. “Hades. _Hades_! Please, help me, I can’t...” She stopped, unable to continue, panting heavily for air. She couldn’t breathe in enough. She felt like she was drowning in her own skin. His expression had become pained. Had he seen the hope in her eyes? He could certainly watch it die as he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. But it must be done. There’s simply no other way.” She recoiled away from him as if he had struck her. His hand fell, and he didn’t meet her eyes. She sobbed, though whether it was from the pain of the light, or the pain of his words, she didn’t know. “When it all becomes too much, come back to Amaurot. You can spend your last moments with me, if you wish. And maybe, when the Source is whole, we can be together again. Until then, this is all I can do for you.” 

If she could have, she would have screamed at him. He was _sorry_ . _Bullshit_. She had never wanted to punch someone in the face more in her life. She couldn’t have formed a response to him if she tried. Her stomach churned, and she retched onto the ground. Thick, iridescent liquid, blood-like in texture and horrifyingly white in hue. 

She couldn’t recoil from his touch this time. She couldn’t. Gently, he set a hand on her shoulder, and much like a few nights prior, he offered his aether, offering darkness to balance the light, if only for a little while. 

Deciding there was nothing more to be done here, Emet stood. He snapped his fingers, and the Exarch disappeared. With one final look back at Penny, he, too, took his leave.

His disappearance didn’t register with her at all. The relief had come with a wave of exhaustion, one that claimed her so completely she passed out there, on the cold tile of the Crown of the Immaculate. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Azem was beyond anger. She was pleading now. Did he not see? How could he simply accept a truth like that? “So how long until that which we created to save us_ destroys _us? How much will we give, and give, and let Them take? We never halted our destruction, Emet. We only delayed it.”_

_Nothing. She knew this wasn’t going to work. Trying to appeal for the good of others had never been the way to change Emet-Selch’s mind. He was an inherently selfish thing. She sighed, stopping her pacing to take a seat next to Emet, leaning into his shoulder. Quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper, she asked, “And if Zodiark then asked for my life, would you give me up? Hades, would you let Them take me?”_

_For an agonizing few seconds that seemed to last eternity, he was silent. Finally, finally, he spoke. Quietly. Barely a whisper, as if he hoped she couldn’t hear him. “Yes. If that was what was necessary, I would.”_

_Her eyes widened. The depths of her shock and sadness were too great to quantify. She choked, fighting tears. Then, her jaw set. Fury like she had never known replaced her sorrow, her betrayal. Without a word, she turned and left._

_And she had never come back. She had been far beyond Amaurot, in a city on the opposite end of the world, when it was shattered into fourteen pieces. There hadn’t been a lead up to the event. Everything was fine, and then it simply...wasn’t._

_And now, here she was, on a carriage ride to Gridania, a talkative man and two odd looking twins in the cart with her._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Penny awoke violently. She was held down by...something, which kept her from thrashing out of bed completely, but she was breathing heavily and cold with sweat as her eyes snapped open. 

Commotion exploded around her. Alisaie and Alphinaud had been the weight on keeping her down, it turned out. They were on either side of her, sleeping and clinging to her arms until she had rudely awakened them. Ryne had been curled up on the end of the bed like a cat, though now she was wide awake and staring at Penny. 

Every Scion was present in her room at the Pendants. Y’shtola and Urianger rose from their seats at the table. Thancred sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, turned to face her. 

She cast her eyes down, avoiding making contact with any of them. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled. 

Alisaie, her eyes wide with concern, placed a gentle hand on her arm. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Alphinaud nodded in agreement, hooking an arm around her neck to give her a tight hug.

She let out a wavering sigh, pressing her face into the twin’s scarf. “I...I didn’t…The light...” She paused. “How am I alive?” 

Y’shtola, now seated on the foot of the bed near Ryne, spoke. “We’re not sure exactly what happened, but before he left, Emet-Selch did something to you. Combined with Ryne’s effort, we were able to repress the light enough to keep you...you. For now, at least.” 

White-hot anger filled her heart as she mentioned the Ascian. How _dare_ he. _Come back to Amaurot._ Oh, was she going to go back to Amaurot. 

“Where’s G’raha? He couldn’t have pulled that stupid stunt of his or I wouldn’t be like…” She gestured to herself, “this.” 

“The Ascian.” The bitterness in Thancred’s voice surprised her. Though, after a second of thought, he had always been sensitive when it came to Ascian meddling. “He claimed the Exarch could be useful and went to Gods-knows-where.” 

Penny sighed. So they hadn’t overheard Emet when he had addressed her. 

Her eyes narrowed and she gripped the blankets with enough force to turn her knuckles white. With a smile that held no fondness whatsoever, she hissed through her teeth. “I know where he went. Should we pay him a visit?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Amaurot hadn’t changed at all since she was last here. She didn’t know why it would. The ghostly figures still milled about, speaking only when spoken to unless they stopped to have a conversation with each other. While the Scions were awed by the scale of the city, Penelope was quiet. It still hurt to remember, and she was content to wallow in her loss and nostalgia without commentary from the Scions, and they were gracious enough to grant it to her. The trip was nothing new for her. It was almost a bit funny, being forced to go through the bureaucratic nonsense Emet-Selch had always endured in the Convocation. He _would_ want to make everyone suffer as he had. 

So she sat and waited on a comically large bench, glad for a small break from the Scions to simply process her emotions. Or so she hoped, until a flash of light burst behind her eyes, followed by searing pain. She fought the urge to throw up, and fell to her side, curled up on the cool bench. 

“Are you alright?” 

The voice was enough to dispel the light and allow her to refocus, and though her head still swam, the worst of the pain and nausea had passed. One of Emet’s cloaked, ancient shades hovered over her. 

She stared at them. _That voice…_ Weakly, she replied, “Hyth?”

“Ah, so you remember me. I feared you might not, but I see it was misplaced.” He sat beside her, his figure eerily emotionless. 

Dragging herself off of the bench, Penny stared at the grey, lifeless figure. No...if she squinted, she could see some color. It was faint, often lapsing if she wasn’t looking for it, but there. 

“You seem to be quite troubled, old friend. I can only imagine Hades is the cause once more?” 

She nodded. “He’s...made some choices I can’t agree with. I don’t think there’s any reconciling this time.” 

The shade of Hyth nodded. This had been a common occurrence before the Sundering. Azem had always come to Hyth when life’s problems felt too big to handle. He had a way of cheering her up. “I understand what he has done has upset you. It upset a great many of us, then, too.” He raised a hand to his featureless face, as if contemplating. Penelope let him have his moment, and he continued. “But this time, it would seem, his choices are not his own. He has ever been a champion of Zodiark and their will, but as you are now for Hydaelyn, he did not choose this title.” 

“I know. But there’s no fixing him.” Penny replied, quietly. “There’s no coming back from Tempering. Especially not thousands of years of it.” 

Hyth hummed. If she had to guess based on his tone, he didn’t like her answer. Never one to pull his punches, even the shade of him could reply exactly as she thought he would. “You’ve never been one to give up so easily, Azem. Least of all on him.” He let out a single, amused laugh. “If there was anyone who could solve a seemingly impossible problem, it is you. I know, though it may come with effort and sacrifice, this is something you can overcome. I have always believed in you, as does he.” 

Penny couldn’t help but smile. Hyth had always been sweet, and provided counsel when she needed it most. She wouldn’t have been half the person she was without his guidance. “Thank you, Hyth.” She looked up, reaching out a hand towards him. 

Without hesitation, he reached towards her as well. Palms facing each other, Penelope tried to touch him one last time, but her hand simply phased through an incorporeal form. She figured as much would happen, but it still hurt. She withdrew her hand, clutching it against her chest. 

“My time has passed, but for you, there is much and more.” 

The shade behind the counter called her name. She looked to Hyth, and he nodded. Climbing down carefully, Penny made her way to the counter. As she took her almost comically large documentation, she turned to look at Hyth, faded though he was, one last time. 

Nothing was left where he had been sitting. The shade had vanished, leaving nothing but cold, lonely stone. 

She closed her eyes and sighed, leaving the Bureau. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The Final Days were never something she had wanted to live through again. 

And yet, she had. 

Fighting Hades, her long-lost love, corrupted by darkness and driven mad by eons of solitude, was not something she wanted to do.

And yet, she had. 

And now, at the pinnacle of Amaurot, she held a weapon of pure light in her hand. 

For her world, for her friends, for the memories she had of people she loved, for his release from an eternity of torment, she struck him with every ounce of strength she could muster. 

The darkness broke. Sunlight shone on the violet crystal peak that had formed on the Capitol. 

And he stood. Broken. A gaping hole in his chest, adorned in the black robes that marked an Ascian. 

The weight of what she had done came crashing down on her. After all this time, she would lose him. She would lose him and he would be gone forever in everything but her memory. After the promises they had made. After the love they had rekindled, even after the cruel betrayal and angry words, she didn’t want to let him go. She couldn’t. 

He placed a hand over the shining wound. He wasn’t gone, not yet. There had to be a way. 

“Remember...Remember us.” 

“ _No! Gods,_ Hades, no! Stay with me! Please, you can’t…!” She stumbled forward, reaching her hand out to him. He smiled, though he shook his head. It was too late. There was a different aura about him, now. Clarity. For this one short, fleeting moment, he wasn’t tempered. He wasn’t a champion of Zodiark. He was Emet-Selch. Hades. The man she remembered and loved.

She’d made a mistake. There had to be another way, there had to be something, _anything_ , she could do. 

She had an idea. A stupid one. 

Everyone knew Ascians couldn’t possess those with the Echo. But maybe, just maybe, if she _let_ him in, it could work. It was all she had, and she was desperate. She wasn’t willing to give up on him. Not now, not ever.

She threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close with what little strength she had left. He was still solid. Fading fast, but there. He raised his arms to wrap around her waist, weakly returning the gesture. “Come with me,” she pleaded, her voice muffled in his robe, quiet enough that only he could hear. “we can find a way to remove the tempering, we can finally have our life together. Please, just don’t leave me. Gods, Hades, don’t leave me. I need you.” 

She fought to quiet the Echo, and let Hades share her body and soul to keep him here with her.

It was a stupid idea that could cost her everything--entire worlds everything. But she was selfish, and she wasn’t ready to let him go. She couldn’t. She could feel him reach out, as if asking permission. 

_Yes. Absolutely, yes._

His body faded under her touch, and her arms fell as she grasped nothing, all that was left of him turning to soft motes of light. 

She collapsed to her knees. She panted, tired, hurt, and exhausted. But when she turned inward, reaching for something foreign in her own soul, she received a small reply. She didn’t hear the words as much as she felt them, but they every bit as real as if they had been whispered into her ear.

**_I’m here._ **


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this chapter's overdue. 
> 
> I wrote and proofread a decent chunk of this chapter drunk, because I am an artist, dedicated to my craft. Also, I'm here to dunk on my favorite characters for the laughs.

When Penny became aware of her own existence again every ilm of her body ached. There was some small grace to be found in the fact that she was lying on a soft bed, though how she got into it she wasn’t sure. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she placed the distinctive architecture of the Crystarium, though as it lacked the small comforts of her inn room, she could only guess she’d been brought to the infirmary. Urianger sat across from her, sitting on an unoccupied stool, reading silently. She closed her eyes again, hoping he hadn’t noticed and would let her lay in silence a while longer. 

“Ah, thou hast awoken.” 

_ Fuck _ . 

Penny grumbled in response, burying her face further into the pillow. 

“I understand if thou hast no desire for idle conversation.” The bed shifted as his weight settled next to her. She felt his touch on her shoulder, followed by the warm creep of healing magic through her body. She sighed contentedly, glad to be relieved of some of her aches, though not all. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled. 

“‘Tis the least I can do. Enjoy thine rest, thou hast earned it.” With that, he stood, taking his place back on the stool, reading quietly. Penny reveled in the calm, peaceful nature of the room, a far cry from the chaos she’d been entrenched in lately. The only sounds she could hear were the clinking of bottled and pestles as the chirurgeons worked, and the occasional flipping of paper pages. It would almost be idyllic, if she didn’t hurt literally everywhere. How long had it been since she’d known peace and quiet? The night she spent in Amaurot with Hades, most likely. 

**_Oh, you’re finally awake!_ ** The voice rang in the back of her mind, causing her to physically flinch in surprise. Urianger no doubt noticed, but after a moment, opted not to say anything, and the silence continued.

She’d nearly forgotten what had happened. Honestly, it was still something of a blur. She could distinctly recall desperately reaching out to a fast-fading Hades, begging him to stay, offering her own body as a vessel if that was what it took. And he’d accepted to save his own life, assuring her he wasn’t gone, he would stay with her as long as he could-- 

And then she’d passed out, apparently. 

All around it had been a terrible choice for an incalculable number of reasons, but she was still in control of her own faculties, so that was...something. 

She had no idea how to communicate with Hades. Could he read her mind? If he could, he didn’t answer. She could  _ feel _ him, in a sense, if she tried to focus on his presence.    
  
**_Yes? Can I assist you in some way, or are you bothering me simply to hear the sound of my voice?_ **

Still focused on him, she frowned.  _ No, I’m trying to figure this out. You should know how possession or whatever works, right?  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Yes, but watching you flail about is quite amusing. I’ll have you know this isn’t a case of possession, for the record. You’ve encountered an Ascian Prime, correct? We’ve done something similar, only thanks to your sundered soul and my pitiful state, the result is incredibly weak and one-sided._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _ Ah. That’s...interesting. And how long is this going to remain one sided? I’m not terribly familiar with the details on how mutual togetherness goes. I’m sure you can understand why I might be nervous about losing control of myself to your influence. _   


**_Until I’ve recovered, which I assure you will be quite some time. And could I wreak unimaginable havoc with you as a catalyst? Of course. But quite frankly, my dear, I don’t want to. I’m_ ** **tired** **_. I’ve lost most of my power thanks to that white auracite you so kindly filled me with anyway, so I doubt I could even if I wanted to._ ** A pause. **_I--I can think more clearly now. I’d much rather spend what time I can with you than fret about how to best bring about the rejoining for another thousand thousand years. That much micromanaging is exhausting._ **

_ Good to know.  _ She felt slightly better about her choice knowing he couldn’t use her as a puppet to finish what he started. And while he said he was willing to move forward, she could tell he hadn’t moved on from Amaurot and its people entirely. He spoke as though if he told himself so, it would be true. She doubted thousands of years of disparaging thinking would be undone in a moment.  _ You don’t think you’re still...tempered, do you?  _ _   
_ _   
_ He didn’t answer for some time, and she could only imagine he was trying to figure it out himself. Penny was certain there was someone, somewhere in the world who would find their current situation absolutely fascinating. She found it entirely too odd and confusing. 

But, Hades wasn’t dead and gone forever. That was something to be grateful for. 

**_Regrettably,_ ** He seemed to have found his answer, and as he spoke, Penny felt an echo of sorrow. She had been hoping, despite everything, he would be cured. **_I think that may be the case. I can still feel the influence, if I search for it, though it no longer holds any sway over me. I can assume that’s because of you._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _ But if you... _ Gods, what were the right words to use here? It was an awkward thing, trying to describe her own body in such a disconnected way, ... _ left? Found a different body to inhabit? _ _   
_ _   
_ **_The tempering would return, I’m sure. Perhaps not immediately, but given time…_ **

Of course.  _ We’re stuck together for a while, then.  _

**_It would seem that way, yes. Are you so eager to be rid of me, dear?_ **

_ Yes. This is, to put it as lightly as humanly possible, weird.  _

**_Yes, well, you offered._ **

_ I was desperate!  _

**_A phrase used to justify many and more poor choices._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _ Oh, I’m  _ sorry _ , next time I’ll just let you die!  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_The advisable choice, all things considered._ **

At least his sense of humor hadn’t dissipated with...most of the rest of him, and Penny had to repress a bitter laugh. The last thing she wanted to do was explain this to Urianger, and she doubted saying she remembered something funny would be an acceptable excuse. 

All things considered, Hades wasn’t the worst company to keep, if she had to choose someone to be stuck with her at all hours of the day. Maybe boring meetings would be tolerable with his commentary. 

_ So what’s this like for you?  _ She didn’t want to elaborate, but he, fortunately, seemed to pick up on what she meant.    
  
**_A little dull, to be honest. I see the things you do, hear them, but I don’t feel anything physical. When you’re passed out from exertion, it’s like being asleep. I think, if I put my mind to it, I could sleep--for lack of a better word. Your emotions, however, are entirely too palpable. Try to feel a little less for my sake, dear._ **

That did make this far less weird.  _ We’ll just have to work on finding a cure for tempering, then, so you can go back to napping the proper way and not be saddled with my annoying emotions _

**_Please_ ** _.  _

They were both silent as Penny continued to relax, though she did prop herself up to rearrange her pillows more comfortably, only to find she was surrounded by them. “...Why are there so many pillows here? I really only need one or two, and there are...what, six?” 

Urianger chuckled at that. “The Scions wanted to ensure thy comfort. The only way they could think to do so was supply you with an excess of pillows. You may thank Ryne and G’raha Tia for believing in the idea so strongly.” 

That would be like them. She smiled, rearranging them all to frame her upper body and tuck between her arms. “I’ll have to thank them later. How’s he doing, by the way? G’raha?” 

“Well. Proximity to the tower was the greatest catalyst for his recovery, and it took no time at all for him to resume fretting about the Crystarium, and, occasionally, thyself.”

Penny was still irritated with his poor choices at the Crown of the Immaculate, but all the same, she was glad he was safe. She had half expected him to fade away, being part of a different time, when everything he hoped to accomplish was said and done. But, thankfully, he was here to stay. And now that he was apparently fully recovered, she wouldn't feel bad about yelling at him for his dumb little stunt.

She settled into her nest of bedding, fully intending to go back to sleep. Her rest was interrupted by a sudden wave of guilt. Faint, but discernible. Her brow furrowed. What did she have to feel guilty about? 

**_Is something amiss?_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** How kind of him to check on her.  _ I just felt weirdly guilty for some reason, and I have no idea why.  _

**_Ah._ ** He was silent for a moment.  **_The shared emotion isn’t one way, as I might have hoped._ **

So it had been him. Feeling something discernable, but not entirely there was an entirely new, unusual feeling for someone who wore their heart on their sleeve as Penny did. 

Knowing how Hades felt, even if only in passing, was going to be a  _ fun _ experience.    
  
_ Now who’s the annoying one?  _ She thought, smugly. Annoyance tickled the back of her mind, and took it as a cue to not tease him on it, though that wouldn’t stop her from prying.  _ What are you feeling so guilt-ridden over, darling?  _ _   
_ _   
_ **_Trying to kill you, mostly. And your friends. Sort of. I…_ ** Another pause. Long and pointiant.  **_I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I wish events had gone very differently, and I’d be lying to say I wasn’t at least a little worried you’ll never forgive me._ **

An apology was the last thing she had ever expected from him. Or, at least, the him she had come to know on the First. Perhaps he would go back to the way she remembered him on Amaurot. Still sardonic and sometimes irritable, but loving, always ready to laugh with her or at himself, willing to cause problems for their own amusement and steal away for quiet moments when they had more important things to be doing. Her heart felt fit to burst with adoration for him as she remembered how he was, and what he could be in the future. The future they’d have together, if they could only figure out how to get rid of Zodiark’s influence. 

**_I’ll assume I’m forgiven, then._ ** His tone was shockingly relieved. She had half expected him to be smug about it. That  _ was _ just like she remembered him, though he did have his rare bouts of sincerity.  **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _ You were tempered. That wasn’t the real you. I  _ will  _ be mad forever if you try it again, though. You only get one free temper pass. _

He seemed pleased with that. **_Duly Noted._ **

Attempting to go back to sleep a second time, she was, again, interrupted by a voice she immediately placed as Alphinaud. She withheld a groan as he began speaking with Urianger. “How is she? Anything new?” 

While she was curious to see if her fellow Scion would lie on her behalf or not, Penny sighed and propped herself back up on her elbows. “‘M awake.” 

“Penny! How do you feel? Is everything alright?” He was at her side in an instant, smiling and all but vibrating with excitement. 

“I mean I don’t feel  _ great _ , but I’m alive. I think I could get up, if I wanted to.” 

“And do you?” 

“Nope.” 

Alphinaud laughed at that. “Very well, then.” He sat on the edge of her bed, much like Urianger had done, but rather than offering healing magic, he began to babble. “All the skies have cleared since we returned from Amaurot! From Lakeland to Eulmore, everyone has been celebrating! It’s been quite lively these last few days, a shame you’ve had to miss it. Everyone has been asking about where you are.” 

Unsurprising, all things considered. Penny hummed. She had hoped Alphinaud would have the good sense to leave her be as Urianger had, but he was here to stay, and she could never send him away, anyhow. “How long was I out?” 

“Nearly a week. Most of us were in rough shape for a day or two, but as you took the brunt of the punishment in the fight with Emet-Selch, it only seems natural you’d be on rest a while longer. We all knew you’d be fine, or course, but it is always hard not to worry at least a little.” He sighed, leaning back, lacing his fingers together and stretching his arms outward. 

“So, what’s next then?” 

“What do you mean  _ what’s next?  _ Have you not considered that we can take a break and simply enjoy life’s finer pleasures for a while?” 

“No, I haven’t, because that literally  _ never  _ happens.” 

“Yes, well….you’re right. We do have the issue of getting ourselves back to the Source. But! That’s not something that needs to be done now. There are still plenty of things all of us would like to do here on the First. When we were discussing it earlier we all decided to stay a while longer, though we would appreciate you going back home and letting everyone know we aren’t dead or worse.” 

Of course. When Penny wasn’t killing Gods, she was running errands.    
  


  
  
  
  
  


“Y’all dyin’.”

“What?”

“Y’all dyin’. I went back to the First like you asked, and that’s what Krile told me. Also, Y'shtola, you have a letter.”

**_Your tact and grace never ceases to astound me._ **

“And pray tell, did she provide  _ any  _ more details?” Y’shtola stood with arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with Penny’s blasé deliverance of news regarding their lives, curtly plucking the letter from her sister from Penny’s hand.

“Yeah, she said it was like, corporeal instability or something?”

“Corporeal instability?” G’raha put a contemplative finger to his lips. “I never considered such a possibility.” 

Penny turned to stare at him. “Really.” 

He blinked. 

“It never once occurred to you that separating someone’s soul from their body might have negative consequences?” She turned to face him fully, putting her hands on his shoulders. “G’raha. I adore you. But you are the stupidest smart person I know.” 

His ears twisted back and his lips pursed to a small, indignant pout. “Come now, is that really necessary?.” 

“Oh,” Alphinaud chirped, “Aymeric will be so disappointed to hear he’s lost his title.” 

“Devastated, I’m sure.” Alisaie responded. 

Penny dropped her hands from the Crystal Exarch’s shoulders. “So, any ideas on how this soul stuff works?” 

The silence was deafening. 

“Alright, well, you guys know I’m clueless when it comes to magic stuff, so I’m going to wrap up some stuff on the Source for a bit while you brainstorm. G’raha, call me if you need any errands done.” 

“Yes,” the Miqo’te sighed, “I’ll do that.” 

With a wink and wave, she stepped backwards through the portal. Being transported was an interesting feeling, she mused. Like being doused in cold water, a blink of an eye of utter darkness and quiet that dragged on just long enough to be uncomfortable. It left her to wonder if that was what death would be like. But she was far too young and had too much to do to think of death, so she didn’t linger on such morbid thoughts as she traveled through Mor Dhona back to the Rising Stones. She would just grab a few belongings before she truly decided what to do with herself, now that everything wasn’t falling apart at the seams. 

As she descended the steps, however, the familiar face of Tataru wasn’t the only one to greet her. No, there was a tall, haggard, and unwashed Elezen, making himself at home, feet propped up on a table. 

Tataru seemed surprised to see Penelope walk in, though Estinien simply offered a curt nod. “Oh, back already! I expected you to be gone a bit longer. I-I’m glad you weren’t, obviously! Is everyone else all right? How did they take the news?” 

“Oh fine,” Penny shrugged. “They’re going to work on it. Speaking of unpleasant things that slowly kill people from the inside, how are you, Estinien?”

The slightest of smiles graced his lips at her teasing. “Well enough. Back from Garlemald, finally. I’m glad to be rid of the place, though something tells me I haven’t seen the last of it. I suppose you haven’t heard the news, with all your galivanting across worlds?” 

“Nope! I haven’t heard anything. Is it good or bad?” 

“Depends on your perspective. For Eorzea at large, however, I would consider it pleasant tidings. Emperor Varis zos Galvus is dead, murdered by his own son.”

“Oh.” Penny blinked. “Huh.” Her first thought was that her life has just gotten a lot easier. If the leaderless country resumed infighting, it would be a welcome reprieve. Without Garlemald breathing down Eorzea’s proverbial neck, maybe she could focus her attention on productive things like rebuilding, rather than tripping over Garlean soldiers wherever she went. 

But Varis had been Emet-Selch’s grandson. She quickly squashed any feelings she had on the matter, reaching out to him. She felt nothing. Not a twinge of emotion from the former emperor. Guilt finally began to bubble up after a few long moments, finally, though any form of loss or sadness was notably absent. She felt him emotionally retreat. Penny grimaced, eyes turning downward. 

“Going to shed a tear for the emperor, are you?” Estinien had an eyebrow raised as he watched her. 

She shook her head. “No, I just don’t like the uncertainty.” It was a weak lie, one she knew Estinien didn’t buy a word of, that much was obvious. Though barely discernible, his eyes narrowed. Disbelieve her though he may, he didn’t press the issue. 

“Gaius was looking for you as well. Has something he wants your input on.” 

So much for trying to figure out what to do. Things were always being thrown at her from every direction, she didn’t know why she expected anything else. “Huh. People don't usually seek me out for my _input_." No, he was almost certainly looking for her bow arm. "Let me get my shit together and I’ll hunt him down.” 

Estinien gave her a perfunctory nod as she disappeared further into the Rising Stones. She closed the door to her room, looking over her scattered effects, but found no desire to gather them up as she should. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed with a huff, once again looking inward toward Hades. Though largely subsided, the vague notion of regret still knotted her stomach enough to warrant attention.

_ You doing alright? _

His answer took a moment.  **_Yes. Perhaps I shouldn’t be, but I am. Or will be, rather._ **

_ Sorry about your empire collapsing.  _ She wasn’t, not even a little, but seemed prudent to say. 

**_Please, don’t lie to me. Even so, it’s nothing. I’ve watched things I’ve built rise and fall countless times, this is no different._ ** There was a long moment of thought, before he began to pontificate,  **_With the empire in chaos, it may actually be an ideal opportunity to fetch me a new body with minimal hassle._ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** _ I’m not letting you possess someone, if that’s what you’re implying.  _

**_No. Not terribly long ago, there was a series of experiments on cloning within the empire’s laboratories. It just so happens they chose myself as their subject, leaving a slew of empty husks in my likeness. Convenient, wouldn’t you agree? Especially considering--and really, we went over this--I couldn’t possess someone if I tried to at the moment._ **

Penny clicked her tongue. She could only assume it was the same body he’d used on the First.  _ That  _ is _ convenient. I'm glad they decided to clone you when you were young and hot and not old and gross, too. Very considerate.  _

**_I couldn’t agree more!_ **

_ Which was fine on the First, but a notable, and notably dead, historical figure running around the Source probably isn’t a great idea though. This might come as a shock, but Eorzeans aren’t terribly fond of Garleans on a good day, let alone the person who founded the source of their misery. _

**_Once I have possession of the body, I can tweak it to something less recognizable._ **

That worked. She paused, pursing her lips.  _ Don’t change it  _ too _ much, I did like it the way it was.  _ Smug self-satisfaction involuntarily rolled through her, and she rolled her eyes.  _ So I can help Gaius with his thing, and maybe he’ll owe me enough to take me on a field trip to Garlemond. We can grab you a body there, I can teleport us home, and we’ve solved one of our problems, at least.  _ It wasn’t a good plan, but it was  _ a _ plan, and that was more than Penelope usually went on. It also didn’t address the issue of Hades’ tempering, but that was a future problem. 

**_For clarity’s sake, let me summarize this for you: You want Gaius van Baelsar, notable Ascian killer, to take you to Garlemond, an active war zone, where the person who wants to kill you more than anyone else on this forsaken planet lives, for the purposes of restoring a tempered Ascian to power._ **

_ Yup. _

**_Perfect. When do we start?_ **

With renewed purpose, she began to pack in earnest. The plan was beautiful in its simplicity. As long as they were careful, there wasn’t much to go wrong. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to the front either. She had learned a great deal about navigating active warzones in Bozja, surely that knowledge could be put to good use there. All it would take was a little favor here and there.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Or, it would have, if she’d ever gotten the opportunity to do it. 

After the destruction of Ruby Weapon, Penelope, mostly due to a shocking display of empathy by Emet, had opted to give Gaius a few days to properly grieve his lost child before asking him to risk life and limb for her errand. Within twenty-four hours of this grace period, however, G’raha Tia reached out, urging her back to the First for her assistance. With her friend’s lives on the line, she didn’t dare delay her turn by hours, let alone weeks. 

In returning to the First, she began a long, seemingly unending string of errands, made bearable only by Emet’s company and amusing commentary (though she had found him insufferably frustrating when he mused,  **_Oh, so that’s where she went,_ ** upon seeing Gaia, and refusing to elaborate further, citing her ignorance as ‘amusing’). Though her expertise mostly lay in killing things and nodding in agreement when someone needed a morale boost, the entirety of the efforts culminated into shockingly decent progress. It offered Penny a rare moment of tentative hope and high spirits for the future. 

For the time being, however, Alphinaud had taken it upon himself to make sure Ardbert’s name wasn’t dragged through the mud for the rest of the First’s history, and had it in his head that an assembly was the way to do so. So Penny had gathered a fair number of people in the Exedra, all who waited with bated breath for whatever Alphinaud had in mind. 

Until he suggested that she should give the speech. 

Her brows shot into her hairline. “You couldn’t have given me  _ any _ warning to prepare? Really?”

Alphinaud crossed his arms and smiled smugly. “You’re a bard, aren’t you? Isn’t this what you do?” 

He had her there. She sighed, what she was going to say already spinning through her mind as she stepped forward to tell the story, her only worry that she wouldn’t do Ardbert the justice he deserved in her tale.

Though it seemed she did, as the people whispered in awe and reverence. Content with that, she scanned the crowd, a small, tired smile on her lips. Until, in the back of the throng of people, she saw the very man she’d spoken so highly of. 

Shock lanced through her. How was this possible? 

**_Elidibus._ ** Emet quickly ended her confusion.  **_I was wondering what he would be up to. He must think I’m truly gone._ **

Her shock turned to fury. How  _ dare  _ he. They locked eyes, and the downturn of his brow and shitty little smirk only served to fuel her rage more. Her fists tightened, and though she was sure Alphinaud was looking to her for some sort of answer, she gave none, seething silently as he began a long, sententious speech. 

Her anger only began to wane when she felt sadness wringing at the back of her mind, weak yet present as Emet quietly mourned, and as she focused it, it overwhelmed her as well. 

Elidibus. 

She hadn’t given him too much thought since her memories returned, being largely occupied by Hades, but now...she could recall what a kind soul he was. How sweet and gentle, young and eager. 

When she’d gotten carried away in a fanciful, stupid idea, he’d never disparaged her for interfering as the other Convocation members did. Elidibus would nod, and with a smile remind her not to get censured. Again.

She’d adored him like a younger brother. She remembered how heartbroken she’d been to discover he’d been chosen as the Heart of Zodiark. She had pleaded the most for the Convocation to reconsider. She’d wept with joy when he returned from Zodiark, and was crushed by despair when he was no longer the plucky young boy she’d remembered. Elidibus was part of the reason she’d left--she couldn’t bear to see him that way, consumed by a fiend that never ceased to take everything she’d held dear.

Hades felt it too, and her own memories compounded sorrow and loss he’d thought he’d coped with eons ago. It was almost too much to bear. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her thoughts only broken and herself made aware of how she must have looked when Alphinaud tugged on her arm, quietly asking, “Penelope? Are you alright?” 

She shook her head, lost for words. 

Thankfully, Urianger seemed eager to leave the scene, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her wordlessly towards the Ocular, where she slumped against the wall to struggle, and fail, to physically control the runaway sorrow of two souls.

Largely quiet amongst themselves, G’raha was the one who sat next to her, speaking first. “I’m sorry, Penny. I know how much he meant to you. To drag him back before you like this, it’s truly cruel.” 

She let out a sob-choked laugh, inhaling sharply after as she rubbed her cheeks dry with her palms. If only G’raha knew. Regardless, she forced a smile. “Thank you.” Emet was the first to calm enough to offer his comfort and attempt to pull Penny back from despair. It only made sense, when he’d had thousands of years to cope and she’d barely begun to remember what she’d lost. 

**_The Elidibus you knew is gone._ ** Hades whispered, though he sounded unsure, as if he had just come to the realization himself. 

_ Is he? I thought the same about you.  _ She heaved a heavy sigh, leaning into G’raha for comfort despite her conversation being completely internal. Her rested his cheek on her in kind, and Penelope was glad to have him around. All of them. She couldn’t imagine having to fight the sorrow of losing Elidibus, of everyone, all on her own, as Hades had. 

**_Not long ago, when we spoke of Lahabrea, he couldn’t recall what he was like. Elidibus has been slowly losing parts of himself all this time. I wonder if he even remembers me as I was in Amaurot. I have no doubt he isn’t even aware of who you are at all, as he never once spoke of you, despite how fond he was of you before the Sundering. Being the Heart of Zodiark affected him, consumed him, in a way entirely different from the rest of us._ **

Cold comfort, if Penny had ever heard it.  _ So what do I do?  _

**_What you must. You may even consider it a mercy._ **

The thought of killing Elidibus didn’t feel that way, but she knew that’s what it would come to all the same. It always did. The Scions speculated on his true plans without her, leaving Hades and Hecate to quietly continue their mourning for a lost friend together. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something to say? say it to my face at [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub!](https://discord.gg/9ZFH2mcp5W)

**Author's Note:**

> Have something to say? say it to my face at [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Bookclub!](https://discord.gg/9ZFH2mcp5W)


End file.
